


Beautiful and Strategic

by messandahalf



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Arranged Marriage, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Good Morgana (Merlin), Good Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Light Angst, M/M, Nobleman Merlin, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Friends, but also still bad Uther Pendragon, but only at the very end so you’re good fam, i mean a little bit near the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messandahalf/pseuds/messandahalf
Summary: When Arthur comes out to his father, the last thing he expects is to end up in an arranged marriage. But that’s exactly what happens.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 152
Kudos: 724





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur knew at a very young age that he was not like the other little boys that he was allowed to interact with in the citadel. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you why, exactly, it was just a feeling he had. He was different than them. That didn’t make him bad, or any less human. He knew he didn’t have magic, which was inherently evil (as his father always told him). There was just a difference there, that he could never put his finger on.

As he grew older, his suspicions that he was different only became more pronounced. He would sit with the other boys, listening to them gossip about girls, how pretty they were, which ones they would court had they been allowed. He found that he never had anything to offer. Sure, some of the girls in the citadel were sweet, some were even very pretty or cute, he just never felt any desire toward them. This suited the King just fine. The last thing he wanted to have to worry about was his son running off with various women and risking fathering bastard children. That was never even a concern that registered in Arthur’s young mind.

When Morgana came to stay with them, due to a tragic and very unfortunate series of events, Uther had forbid them from ever entering into any kind of romantic relationship. Under no circumstances were they ever allowed to court one another. Arthur had found the request to be a bit odd, but neither he nor Morgana had any issues in following the demand. Morgana often spoke of how she found Arthur to be pompous and arrogant. Arthur found this a tad unfair, as he was still too young to even start training to be a knight, but she had lost both of her parents, so he cut her some slack. For Arthur, again, he felt no desire to go against Uther’s wishes. Yes, Morgana was very beautiful, objectively speaking, but he felt nothing but vague annoyance toward her. As he imagined siblings would feel toward one another.

Incidentally, it was Morgana who figured out what it was that made him so different from everyone else. They were at the tender age of thirteen, and after training hard with the knights for hours that afternoon, Arthur and Morgana had snuck out behind the castle so Arthur could relay everything he had learned to his sister. She had just parried a complicated blow from Arthur, when she opened her mouth and said something that very nearly knocked him flat on his arse.

“I think you could be gay, Arthur.” She had voiced her opinion so casually, it was like she was speaking of something mundane, like the weather. Something of so little consequence that it barely afforded more that a mere passing glance.

He had stared at her in shock, spluttering and decidedly red-faced from embarrassment, before he managed to get out a choked, “What?”

Morgana had given him her patented _‘don’t be an idiot’_ look, and rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be daft, Arthur.” She had scoffed. “I have eyes, and I see the other boys chasing after the girls, and you never joining in.” Her smirk was decidedly victorious. He had to wipe it off her face. It was a matter of pride.

“That’s because I’m the Prince.” He replied haughtily. “I have an image to uphold. How would it look to the rest of the kingdom if their Prince was seen chasing after women?” He sounded extremely arrogant and egotistical, even to himself.

Sure enough, Morgana twisted her face into a disgusted grimace, and swung her sword at him. He blocked the blow easily enough, and they fell back into their sparring rhythm. Arthur let himself fall into a false sense of security, thinking that Morgana had dropped the topic. Turns out that, that assumption was very, very stupid.

“Do you find me beautiful?” She asked, after they stopped for a breather. Arthur had been out in the sun, fighting, for close to three hours now. He was getting overheated and definitely hungry. Once again he choked and spluttered at her sudden question. Why was she being so persistent with this?

“On fear of great pain, I’m going to say yes.” He replied evasively. She shoved him shoulder roughly, much stronger then he thought she really had a right to be.

“I want you to be serious, Arthur. Do you find me beautiful?” She said. When he looked up into her face, he found her eyes to be deadly serious. There was no hint of trickery or malice anywhere in her facial features. He gnawed on his lower lip as he truly thought over her question, and what his answer was going to be.

After a heavy pause, he finally replied, “Yes, you are beautiful.” When she gave him an incredulous and exasperated look, he held up a hand. “Let me finish. You are beautiful, I’m not blind. You can find beauty in things even if you do not want them.” His heart was thudding in his ears as he finally, sort of, confessed the feelings and confusion he had felt his entire life. Morgana had simply smiled and gripped his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. No more was said on the subject that afternoon.

When Arthur was fifteen, he had felt his first true feeling of attraction. The boy was no one, the son of one of the servants in the Royal household. He had just been hired himself, doing menial jobs as they were needed. Arthur first saw him when he had snuck into the kitchens to try to steal sweets. He had been younger than Arthur, by about a half a year, and had the most striking green eyes he had ever seen. A soft dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose. His face was gently framed by rich, brunet locks that curled sweetly around his ears. Arthur had, had the most intense desire to reach out and _touch_ , that he had missed the cook approaching with her broom. The boy had looked up at him just as the cook swatted him.

“I don’t care that you’re the King’s son. I will not have you stealing from my kitchen.” She had squawked, swatting at him again. Arthur had blushed red in embarrassment as the boy gave him a sympathetic smile, and he promptly fled, vowing to never return.

He pushed himself in training that afternoon, trying to push the memory from his mind. It almost worked, too. By the time he was finished, he was sweaty and his muscles ached wearily. He was tired enough, especially after sneaking off with Morgana afterward, that he could barely string two words together in his mind. His servant, a new one this week, had given him a hastily covered reproachful look when he finally turned up in his chambers. He had simply given the man a cheeky grin, then stood quietly while his armour and maille were stripped from his body. A bath was ordered, and that’s when he saw the boy again.

Arthur had stripped out of his sweaty clothes behind the changing screen, wrapping one of his thick, plush towels around his hips for modesty before stepping out. When he was met with familiar green eyes, he stumbled, just barely managing to catch his towel before it could slip free from his waist.

“Sire.” The boy said softly, bowing his head formally. Arthur felt himself blush quite profusely.

“What is your name?” He asked. When the boy had straightened up, he had looked quite surprised. Like he never expected the Prince of Camelot to even notice his existence. And really, how could Arthur not? Especially when they were the only two in his chambers currently.

“Uhm, M-Marek, my Lord.” He had stumbled, fumbling his words like he had forgotten how to speak. Arthur smiled, secretly pleased that he had been able to reduce this boy to a blushing mess, much like the array of women that tried to flaunt themselves to him almost every day.

“Marek.” Arthur said, testing the name out on his tongue. He noted with interest how the boy flushed further. He took a step closer, letting his hips swing a little more than usual, or strictly necessary. “Tell me, how do you like working here?”

The boy had audibly gulped. “I am treated fairly. I could have it much worse.” He had gotten in reply. Arthur had pursed his lips as he studied the boy. He was even more beautiful up close.

“Yes, I suppose you could. You may go.” He had said, dismissing him. Marek had given him a slight smile before ducking into a low bow, and leaving the room. Arthur’s eyes had trailed his movements until he had left out of sight. It was then that he had noticed the two pastries left behind on his table. The very same pastries he had been trying to swipe from the kitchens that morning.

Arthur found himself seeking out, and spending more time with Marek than he really should have. It was improper, a Prince spending time with a serving boy, but he couldn’t help it. For the first time in his life, he had felt the heat of desire, and it was a heady feeling indeed. They shared their first kiss together, out behind the Royal stables. It was awkward and fumbling, and left Arthur with a burning want for more. However, he never got more. It was shortly after this kiss that Marek left. His parents uprooting his life and leaving under the guise of family falling ill elsewhere in the kingdom. Arthur saw the lie for what it was. As a Prince, he could not cavort with a serving boy.

His sixteenth birthday started the endless parade of princesses past his nose. Feast after feast was held, as families of noble blood brought their daughters to Camelot for the King’s inspection. Much to Arthur’s relief, Uther wasn’t too insistent on his son finding a bride yet, and so listened to Arthur whenever he turned down the current girl flouncing around in a fancy ball gown. He sent most of these feasts in huddled conversation with Morgana beside him, their heads bowed together. It was at one such feast that Morgana finally broke.

“You need to tell him, Arthur.” She had whispered, eyes flicking distastefully to the petite blonde thing sitting sulkily beside her father at the other end of the table.

Arthur looked at her with panicked eyes. “Are you mad? I can’t tell him!” He had protested vehemently.

Morgana had merely sighed, and flicked her eyes to Uther over Arthur’s shoulder. “You know as well as I that Uther’s acceptance of your refusals will only last so long. There will come a time that he will put his foot down, and you will have to take a bride, whether you want to or not.”

Arthur knew that what Morgana spoke was the truth. It was only a matter of time before his father decreed that Arthur was old enough to stop dragging his feet. However, how would his father take the news of his only son’s differing sexual preferences? Morgana seemed to pick up on the overwhelming panic building up in his chest, and laid a comforting hand on his forearm.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” She had soothed. “But soon.”

Arthur had agonized over Morgana’s words. He knew that he would be truly miserable with a wife by his side. However, as heir to the throne, it was his duty to the kingdom to do what was best for his people, not for himself. Another thought had popped into his head at that. _‘A miserable King is an easily defeated_ _one.’_ The voice sounded suspiciously like Morgana’s.

It took a week for him to finally build up the courage to speak with his father. He was sweating nervously, heart thudding so loud against his ribcage that he was sure that half the kingdom must hear it. His father was finishing a council meeting when Arthur caught him, asking to speak to him about a matter of great importance. Uther had agreed at once, ordering the council chambers to be vacated and the doors sealed until he gave the order to open them.

“Father, there is something I wish to tell you, and you may not like it, but it needs to be said.” He had forced his voice to come out much stronger than he felt, and he gave himself a pat on the back. Uther had looked mildly concerned, but told him to carry on. Arthur swallowed thickly, trying to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“It is about the princesses.” He finally managed to speak. “I—I do not wish to take a wife.”

Uther’s features seemed to lose some of their previous concern. “You are young, Arthur. It is understandable for you to be hesitant.”

Arthur had frowned. “No, you don’t understand, Father. I never wish to take a wife. It is not marriage I am opposed to. Merely marriage to a woman.” His voice was decidedly shaky now as his father stared at him intently.

Finally, after what felt like eons, his father spoke. “You would rather wish to marry a man?” Arthur had mutely nodded at his father’s question, unsure of whether he could actually speak anymore. His father had continued his silent scrutiny, before waving his hand slightly. “Very well.”

Arthur was sure he had heard wrong, but his father was already leaving the council chambers, seemingly unangered by his son’s announcement. After that, the feasts stopped. The parade of women for his fancy stopped. No more mentions of marriage or wives came up. Morgana had told him how proud she was of him, how proud that her brother had finally done something for himself. Arthur had secretly glowed under the praise.

Things seemed to settle in this new way of life. Arthur no longer had to hide who he was. He continued to train with the knights, sneaking off with Morgana after. Unfortunately, his time training with his sister dwindled as he was given more Princely duties. She had seemed to understand. It wasn’t until his eighteenth birthday that everything changed.

He was summoned to his father’s chambers in the late morning, just before lunch. He had been dazedly going over some new paperwork for his father when the summons came. He was mildly grateful for the interruption, but admittedly nervous about what his father could want.

“Ah, Arthur. Sit down.” His father ordered as he opened the heavy wooden doors. Arthur did as he was told.

“Was there something you wanted to discuss with me?” He asked warily.

Uther nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. In a few days, we will be entertaining some very important guests. I had received a letter from one of the Lords at the edge of the kingdom a few weeks ago that caught my eye. I had replied at once, and today I received word that they are nearly upon us.”

Arthur stared at him blankly. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“Everything, Arthur, for the letter I had originally received was an offering of marriage. They are a strong, noble family, and would bring great honour to the Pendragon house.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But I don’t want to get married for convenience. I want to marry for love!” He protested feebly. He shrunk back at the look his father sent him.

“Lord Balinor has assured me that his son will be a perfect match for you. I expect you to get to know him. A customary tournament will be held in his honour a few days after their arrival, giving the boy a chance to settle in. The day after that, you will be married.” His father left no room for discussion. The whole affair had clearly already been decided. He swallowed down any further arguments, knowing they would be futile.

“What is the name of the man who is to be my husband?” He asked quietly. Uther looked him right in the eye, approving of Arthur’s, albeit reluctant, acceptance.

“Merlin.” He said.


	2. Chapter 2

The day that Merlin is to arrive at the citadel with his parents has Arthur feeling antsy. Not that he would ever verbally admit that. He has this deep rooted need to make a good first impression, like Merlin’s opinion of him is of great importance. His father had not given him many details about his future husband, as he didn’t have many details to give, so Arthur was internally fretting over the fact that he really had no idea how to _make_ said good first impression. What was this Merlin expecting him to be?

“Nervous, dear brother?” Morgana’s voice suddenly loud and clear in his ear makes him jump. He clears his throat loudly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Morgana chuckles over her victory of startling him.

“No.” He mumbles, not even convincing himself. He was the Prince of Camelot, the heir to the throne. What right did he have to be so nervous over meeting the son of a nobleman? Morgana shifts away slightly to look him over, which just makes him start to sweat even more.

Her eyes turn sympathetic as she says, “You really _are_ nervous, aren’t you?”

Arthur feels himself pale, even as he shakes his head. “No?” He winces as he accidentally voices it as a question. Morgana settles a reassuring hand on his arm, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze.

“Arthur, you have nothing to worry about. You have a good heart. Just be true to who you are and Merlin will have no choice but to love you.” She assures him softly, voice lowering in volume as Uther enters the throne room to greet their guests.

Uther looks in their direction as he approaches, smiling with pride. “Arthur, Morgana, you’re here already. Good. They should be here shortly.” He announces, sending a fresh wave of uneasiness squirming through Arthur’s stomach. And honestly, he had been on patrol and fought off bandits without so much as blinking an eye. Why did this make him feel the need to sink to his knees and bury his head away where no can see him?

He glances up at the throne room doors, panic in his eyes, as approaching footsteps are heard on the other side. Uther stands tall at the base of his throne, looking thoroughly unaffected by the whole situation. Though why would he? It wasn’t his future changing forever, for better or worse, was it? Morgana shifts her hand to grip his, giving it a firm squeeze for only a moment before letting go and moving to take her place on the King’s left side. Arthur takes a deep breath, futilely trying to calm his nerves, and steps up to his father’s right. The footsteps pause outside the doors, and he swallows. This is it.

Two guards open the doors, gesturing for the trio to enter. Arthur’s eyes flick over them quickly, first looking at who must be Lord Balinor. He was a tall man, well built, with long greying hair and beard. He had a kind face, an aura of calmness about him. The woman beside him, who must be his wife, Hunith, had a plain kind of beauty to her. Her long, dark hair was pulled back, and her clothes, while obviously made of fine linens, were not flashy.

His eyes are then drawn to Merlin himself. He, too, is clearly dressed in nobleman’s clothes, but not in an effort to show off his wealth or status. Still, they fit him well, highlighting his slighter frame. He has fine, almost porcelain like, skin, which is contrasted by the dark, dark locks curling gracefully around his ears and tumbling slightly over his forehead. His ears, although bordering on almost ridiculous, lend an endearing quality to the otherwise sharp angles of his cheekbones. As they get closer, Arthur notices that his eyes are the most shocking blue he has ever seen.

“Lord Balinor, Lady Hunith, I am very pleased that you made it here without any problems.” Uther says loudly, reaching out to take Balinor’s proffered hand. The man bows slightly as Uther takes it. Hunith dips into a low curtsey, smiling courteously as Uther takes her hand gently. He doesn’t stoop to kiss her knuckles though.

“Thank you for having us, my Lord.” Balinor says, voice deep and exuding a warmth that Arthur is not used to.

Uther’s attention soon shifts to Merlin. He looks him over calculatingly before smiling at him. “You must be Merlin.”

“Sire.” Merlin says, and his voice is deeper than Arthur was expecting for someone who looked so elven. He drops his head in a bow, one that looks decidedly forced. Uther doesn’t seem to notice, but it definitely piques Arthur’s interest. He shares a quick look with Morgana, and she’s smiling approvingly. She noticed it too.

“This is my son, Arthur.” Uther says, reaching out his right hand to silently beckon Arthur forward.

“I’m very pleased to meet you.” Arthur says, stepping forward to first grip Balinor’s hand firmly, then ducking his head to gently brush his lips over Hunith’s knuckles. She smiles sweetly, genuinely, at him. When he shifts his attention back to Merlin, he flounders, unsure how to greet him.

In the end, it’s Merlin who ducks his head in some semblance of a bow, eyes still unflinchingly connected with Arthur’s, as he says, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lord.” Morgana coughs behind them as Arthur feels his cheeks grow warm. Merlin smiles wider.

Uther clears his throat, bringing both their attention back to the room. “Come, I will escort you to your chambers. Arthur, perhaps you can show Merlin around.”

“Yes, Father.” He says immediately. Morgana gives him a smirk as they all start to leave.

“Have fun.” She murmurs in his ear as she passes by. Arthur feels his face heat even more, and he throws insults at her retreating back in his mind. Much too soon, the others have left, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone in the vast throne room.

He turns to look at Merlin, only to find the boy already looking at him. He blushes even more, and damn it all, when did he become such a girl? “So, Merlin...”

Merlin _almost_ smirks. “Yes, Sire?”

“Please.” Arthur grimaces. “None of that. If we are to be married, then we will view each other as equals. It’s Arthur.”

Merlin’s smile turns soft. “As you wish, Arthur.” He says, making Arthur’s heart surprisingly flip in his chest. When he doesn’t say anything in response, Merlin quirks an eyebrow. “I believe that you were supposed to be showing me around?”

Arthur looks away, ducking his head slightly to hide his _blasted_ red cheeks, and clears his throat. “Yes. What would you like to see? There’s the various parts of the castle itself, the stables, the gardens, the training grounds...” He lets his voice drag off as he looks back at Merlin in question. Merlin’s nose looks wrinkled in thought as he ponders his options, and Arthur feels a jolt at how _cute_ it makes the man look.

Finally, Merlin says, “Perhaps we should start with the obvious. Where I’ll be staying.”

Arthur has to swallow back his knee-jerk reaction of wanting to blurt out, _‘You’ll be staying with me.’_ It was not proper for Merlin to stay in Arthur’s chambers before they were wed. Arthur never thought that he would find that partcular bit of etiquette annoying until he met his betrothed.

“Of course.” He replies, hopefully sufficiently covering up his almost slip of the tongue. “This way.” He gestures toward the throne room’s doors, and absolutely _does not_ squeak in surprise when Merlin steps up beside him and loops his arm around Arthur’s elbow. Merlin grins at him, definitely having heard Arthur’s not squeak. Arthur rolls his eyes, mumbling something that could’ve been _‘not a word’_ before leading them from the room.

As they make their way through the castle halls, Arthur finds his eyes stubbornly drawn to the man beside him. His blue eyes were filled with something akin to wonder, and he couldn’t help but wonder himself if Merlin had ever really stepped foot inside a castle before. The high ceilings and vast hallways did little to impress him, but this was all he had ever known. He had grown up here, and so it was just normal. Merlin may be the son of a nobleman, but that didn’t mean that he was accustomed to the same luxuries that Arthur had, had growing up.

Arthur gets caught staring when Merlin suddenly turns to him to say, “You have a very beautiful home.”

Arthur’s cheeks, which had finally lost their colour, flush pink again. “Thank you. It’s soon to be your home, too.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Merlin muses as he looks around. “What does one do here? I assume you do not help the citizens in the city with their daily duties.” He asks, once again looking back steadily at Arthur’s face. Arthur smiles as Merlin’s words conjure up an image of Merlin selflessly toiling away in the fields to help the people of wherever he came from.

“No, we generally do not physically help the people. My father prefers not to interfere too much. I do, and Morgana as well, enjoy going down to the market. It pleases the people to see their Prince and the King’s ward out mingling with them. Other than that, I train with the knights, and perform whatever duties my father asks of me.” He replies, taking note that they were nearing Merlin’s new chambers.

Merlin tilts his head slightly. “And what duties are those?” He asks curiously.

Arthur shrugs non-committally. “Whatever he sees fit to have me do. Patrol the kingdom, lead raids on bandit camps, meet with important dignitaries when they visit.” He comes to a stop outside a set of doors. “These are your chambers.”

Merlin ignores his last statement, instead turning to fully face him. “That sounds like a very lonely life. Do you not have friends? Do you not do things for fun?” He asks, face almost creased with concern. Arthur feels himself flounder slightly.

“Well.” He starts, then stops, unsure how to answer. He had Morgana, and he was relatively close with the knights, especially Sir Leon, but he didn’t know if he could really label them as his friends. And how sad would it be if one of his only friends was the woman that he called his sister? To avoid needing to answer right away, he pushes open the wooden doors.

Merlin obediently follows him inside, only turning back when the doors have swung shut behind them. “You didn’t really answer my question.”

Arthur grimaces. “As Prince, I’ve never really been afforded the luxury of friendship or fun. I do go on the occasional hunt, but again, that is more duty to provide food. I suppose getting out of the castle for a bit is fun.”

Merlin wrinkles his nose slightly. “I hate hunting.” He replies, even his voice containing hints of disgust. His reaction startles a laugh out of Arthur. He had never met anyone quite like Merlin. When he says as much, Merlin just grins.

A heavy silence falls over then, and Arthur has to fight the urge to squirm. Finally, he can’t take it anymore, and asks, “So, these are you chambers. Would you like me to show you around more, or would you like to rest?”

Merlin’s smile almost turns shy. “Would you mind showing me around more?” Arthur feels something in his chest melt.

“Not at all.” He replies sincerely, turning back to the door, and holding out his arm for Merlin to take again. The laugh he gets in response as the man’s more slender arm twines with his makes his entire body glow with warmth.

They spend the rest of the afternoon strolling through the castle and the castle grounds. He shows Merlin the garden, and he insists that they just sit and breath in the fragrant aromas. Arthur does so indulgently, not being able to deny the man anything, despite having only just met him. He gets the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he is potentially screwed.

From there, they wander over to the stables, where Merlin takes a generous amount of time introducing himself with each soft and snuffly nose. To Arthur’s surprise, his mare, Llamrei, takes an instant liking to Merlin. She is typically suspicious of new people, only generally calming around Arthur and her usual groom. Merlin has her lipping at his dark hair in mere minutes. Arthur can’t help the surprised huff of laughter that escapes him as he stands off to the side and watches the pair get acquainted.

Much to Arthur’s chagrin, Merlin takes just as much time with the dogs as he did the horses. He had reminded Merlin that they were hunting dogs, that they weren’t pets, and therefore had to be treated as such, but his betrothed had simply given him a sunny grin even as he sat down on the lush grass and let the dogs sniff him all over. Their wet kisses and wagging tails seemed to bring Merlin so much joy that Arthur found all his arguments dying in his throat. Let the man be happy. Perhaps his joyous attitude would bring some much needed light to Arthur’s life.

Arthur escorts Merlin back to his chambers that evening. “It was wonderful getting to know you, Merlin.” He says, lifting Merlin’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. He almost preens as Merlin’s cheeks flush red.

“You as well, Arthur.” Merlin replies, eyes practically glowing with contentment. “I believe that I will be very happy here.” He adds, but there’s something to his voice that Arthur can’t quite place. Before he has a chance to ask, Merlin steps closer and lightly brushes his lips against the Prince’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Arthur.”

Arthur stands in the hallway in mild shock even after the door had closed. It takes him a moment longer than he would ever admit to be able to shake himself and continue on to his own chambers. As he pushes the doors open, he spots Morgana waiting for him, sitting at his table and idly biting into an apple. She looks up as he closes the doors behind himself.

“So,” she says, “what do we think of Merlin?”

Arthur meets her gaze unwaveringly. “He is very...” He falters. “He will be a good match for the kingdom. He is kind and compassionate. If a little clumsy.” He says, thinking back on the few times he had tripped over his own feet that afternoon, Arthur having to catch him before he could fall on his face.

Morgana grins. “You like him.” She purrs.

Arthur pulls a face. “I have to like him, ‘Gana. He is to be my husband before the week is through. Everyone will be much happier if we are accepting of each other.”

Morgana cocks her head, studying him intently. “I think he’s a good match for you. You contrast each other, both in looks and personality. He will smooth out the edges Uther has created. He will ground you. You need that kind of blunt support.”

Arthur barks out a laugh. “I thought I had you for blunt support.” He comments lazily, slowly coming to rest in a chair across from her. She grins at him, flicking her long hair over her shoulder.

“Of course you do, but as your husband, Merlin will have much more control over you than I ever could.” When Arthur frowns, she gets to her feet, clasping her hands around one of his. “This is a good thing, Arthur. For once I can agree on something that Uther has done for you. Merlin will make you happy, and you will make him happy in turn.” She leans down to wrap him up in a hug. Arthur basks in her reassurance for a moment.

“Thank you.” He says as she pulls away. She offers him a soft smile.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Arthur.” She says, and then he’s all alone.

Arthur scrubs at his face with both hands. Morgana is right, this will be good for him. Merlin can, and probably will, offer him the support he needs as he goes from Prince to King. He can easily see himself falling in love with the man, and it terrifies him.


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time in recent memory, Arthur is nervous for a tournament. It’s not necessarily the tournament itself, he knows he’s the best jouster in Camelot, it’s more the fact that Balinor, Hunith, and Merlin will all be watching. After spending the past couple days getting to know Merlin, he desperately wants to impress the man. He knows very well that this need could lead to him making stupid mistakes. He wants to avoid those at all costs. Morgana especially would never let him live it down.

After forcing himself to eat his breakfast alone in his chambers, he heads down to the Pendragon tent erected with the rest off to the side of the arena. His servant, and surprisingly, Morgana are both waiting for him. Arthur silently sits, letting his servant move him as needed as his heavy armour is set into place and strapped on snugly. He doesn’t say anything to his sister, knowing full well that she will speak when she decides to.

At long last, she takes a deep breath and says, “Arthur, I just wanted to wish you luck. Not that you need it, really.”

He gives her a somewhat strained smile. “Thank you, ‘Gana.”

She smiles back, but it, too, is stilted. “I also want to say that no matter what your father thinks, you don’t _have_ to win everything. If you don’t, you aren’t going to bring shame on the Pendragon name.”

Arthur’s smile turns more genuine now. Morgana gave him some version of this exact speech before every tournament. The King was notoriously hard on his son, always expecting him to be the absolute best at everything he did. While Arthur found the pressure quite stressful at times, he never once complained. It was part of his duty as Prince, to prove to the people that he was strong enough to lead them, and protect them, in the future. Or so his father said. Morgana didn’t quite share those same views.

“Thank you, Morgana, but we both know that’s not true.” He replies softly, eyes flicking briefly to his servant. With his heavy armour fully prepped, the man nods and ducks out to check that Llamrei is ready as well. Morgana moves to take a seat beside him.

“You know,” she starts in a low voice, “Merlin won’t care if you win or lose today. In fact, I’m not even sure he understands why this tournament is being held in the first place.” She muses, laughter twinkling in her eyes. Arthur let’s himself smile wider, a chuckle slipping past his lips as he drops his gaze to his boots.

He sounds decidedly fond when he replies, “No, he doesn’t. I’ve been trying to explain it to him since the day after they all arrived. He’s convinced it’s just an excuse for us men to get sweaty, beat on each other, and try to show off.”

Morgana bursts out laughing beside him. “Well, he’s not entirely wrong there, now is he?” She asks, lightly patting his thigh. “All I’m saying, is you don’t have to be so worried about disappointing your betrothed. I have a feeling he’ll be besotted with you either way.”

Arthur groans as his face warms yet again, it was really becoming a very bothersome habit these days, and looks away. He doesn’t have to be looking at his sister to know that she had a horribly self-satisfied smirk on her face. Normally, he didn’t mind her brief visits to his tent before tournaments, but today he found himself just wanting to be alone. He felt too on edge to properly communicate with anyone.

“Don’t you have someplace else to be?” He asks. Morgana’s eyes just glint as her smirk deepens.

“I do, actually. I’ll be keeping Merlin company and explaining the whole joust business to him while you try to knock people off their horses in a grand display of masculinity.” She says, and she sounds decidedly pleased with herself. Arthur grimaces, watching as she gracefully gets to her feet. He debates throwing his glove at her as she leaves, but decides against it ultimately. He was the Prince, after all. He should probably act like it.

As was customary, Arthur starts the tournament off. He’s alone in the arena, a single hoop hanging in the air that he is to catch on his lance. Easy. He’s done this exact type of thing hundreds of times in practice. Llamrei can sense the excitement in the air, and is pawing and prancing beneath him. He soothes a hand down her muscled neck before accepting the lance his servant holds up for him. Llamrei bursts forward at the slightest provocation from his heels, and the crowd goes quiet as he advances across the arena. As expected, the small hoop slides effortlessly onto the tip of his lance, pulling free from its hold. His mare practically struts over to where the King, Morgana, Merlin, and his parents await him.

Merlin leans over the railing as Arthur comes to a stop. He’s grinning as Arthur lifts the visor of his helmet, and the Prince can’t help but grin back. Merlin’s cheeks flush a light pink, and once again, something in Arthur’s chest practically purrs at the sight. He enjoys being the one doing the flustering instead of being the one flustered.

“For you.” Arthur says unnecessarily as he shifts his lance so Merlin can pull the hoop off the end.

“Very impressive, my Prince.” He replies, grinning almost savagely as Arthur once again flushes red. He attempts a scowl, but if Merlin’s grin is anything to go by, the attempt falls excessively flat. With a playful huff, he nudges his mare’s sides, and they trot from the arena, allowing the next knight to repeat the whole process over again.

Arthur jumps off his mare once he’s back by the Pendragon tent, not wanting her to carry the full weight of him and all his armour for longer than she needed to. As his servant takes her reins from him, Sir Leon comes up beside him. He had been the next knight to enter the arena after Arthur.

“Merlin seems like a fine young man, Sire.” He says kindly. Arthur feels his mouth stretch into a soft smile.

“He is. He will be good for Camelot.” Arthur replies softly, not used to showing this side of himself to anyone, except perhaps Morgana.

Leon turns to look at him properly. “I believe he will be good for you, moreso than the kingdom. There is something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Arthur hums in reply, knowing exactly what the knight was talking about. There was definitely _something_ different about Merlin. He had felt it from the moment they first met. He had been trying to puzzle it out ever since, but had so far come up with nothing. Whatever it was, it was obvious enough for people to notice, but elusive enough for no one to actually guess what it was.

“Good luck today, Arthur.” Sir Leon says, clasping a friendly hand over his shoulder. The Prince smiles gratefully at him. Perhaps he could count the man as his friend after all. He watches him leave for his own tent in silence, feeling slightly more balanced than he had before.

It doesn’t take long for the tournament to progress. The joust has always seemed to be a favourite of the people, and their cheers for the winners, along with their verbal sympathies for the losers, rung out loud and clear for quite some distance. Arthur needn’t have worried previously, as he came out as victorious in every match he entered. Still, he snuck glances through his closed helmet at Merlin after every victory, gauging his reaction. Merlin was always smiling back at him. That simple smile filled him with more warmth than the cheers of his father ever had.

The day progressed, hot and sticky, down to the final match. Arthur would be riding against one of his knights, Sir Bedivere. He was undoubtedly the next best jouster in Camelot, and Arthur knew better than to underestimate him. By this point in the day, they were both hot and tired, as were their mounts. A victory now would take much more effort that his victories previously in the day. One glance at his father told him all he needed to know. Anything but a victory would be unacceptable.

The match is gruelling for Arthur, both men ending up in a draw. One final run is to be held to decide the winner. Llamrei snorts and tosses her head as Arthur grips his final lance. It sits heavy in his hand, the heat of the blazing afternoon sun zapping his energy. Sir Bedivere across the arena seems to be suffering the same fate. He has one last run to prove himself to his father, to the kingdom, and to his future husband. He glances at Merlin again, something that was quickly becoming a common habit, and finds him chewing on his lower lip nervously. He may not understand the tradition behind this tournament, but he seemed to get getting into the spirit of it easily enough.

The man in the middle waves his flag, then sprints off to the side as both men kick their mounts forward. Arthur steadies his lance, aiming perfectly as he had practiced for many years. His lance makes a satisfying _crack_ as it connects with Sir Bedivere’s chest plate. The knight falls backward, barely managing to stay on his horse. His lance falls to the ground, unbroken, as the two horses pass fully. Arthur pulls Llamrei up at the end, quickly lifting the visor of his helmet to look back and ensure that his knight was okay. Sir Bedivere glances over at him and lifts a hand in a wave. Arthur instantly relaxes. It was over. He had won.

To his surprise, Merlin is waiting for him at his tent when he finally manages to break through the people trying to congratulate him. He jumps down, passing the reins to his mare’s groom. His servant appears at his side, ushering him into the tent to have his armour removed. Arthur gives Merlin an apologetic smile and takes his hand to pull him inside as well.

Once inside, Merlin speaks. “Well done, Arthur. Although, from what I heard, there was never really any doubt about your victory today.”

Arthur can’t help his smile as he chuckles bashfully. “I’m sure my father was merely trying to brag about my skill simply to impress you.” He brushes off, lifting his arms and sitting down so the man bustling around him can easily pull the armour off.

“Possibly.” Merlin muses. “But you proved him right anyway. I was rightfully impressed.” He grins. Arthur continues to smile back self-consciously, all too aware of how sweaty and awful he looks at the moment. He can even feel his hair standing up in sweaty clumps around his head. As his servant backs off to place his armour where it can be cleaned and mended, Arthur gets to his feet.

Taking Merlin’s hands in his own, he lifts them both to his lips, almost nuzzling them affectionately. “Allow me to get cleaned up. I will see you tonight when we all dine with the King.” He says quietly. Merlin’s eyes have softened, same with his smile, as he nods.

“You definitely do smell like you could use a wash.” Merlin quips, laughing as Arthur’s eyes widen in surprise. He pulls his hands away and retreats before Arthur can even think of an appropriate reply. When he turns back to his servant, the man is biting back a smile of his own. For once, Arthur finds that he doesn’t really mind.

~~~

What Arthur feared to be an awkward gathering for dinner, is anything but. The King sits at the head of the table, as usual, with Arthur to his right, Merlin beside him, and Morgana beside Merlin. Across from them sit Balinor and Hunith. The conversation is lively as they go over the excitement of the joust. Despite being a noble family, they had never had much opportunity to attend many tournaments, and not for a very long time. Merlin hardly remembers going to one at all.

“You are quite the horseman, Sire.” Balinor says. “Your mount does not look like an easy one to handle.”

Arthur smiles politely. “Thank you. She can be quite the handful. She only trusts a few, and prefers me riding her. Very few others have tried. Merlin won her over quickly enough, though.” He says, looking beside him at Merlin, who has ducked his head sheepishly.

“Yes, Merlin always did have a way with animals.” Hunith says, watching her son fondly from across the table. “I always say it’s because of his pure heart, but that tends to embarrass him.” She adds with a chuckle.

Sure enough, Merlin lets out a barely audible whine as his cheeks flush red. Arthur finds that he almost can’t look away. It isn’t until Morgana clears her throat that he finally rips his gaze away, finding the other four in the room looking at them with fond amusement.

“I can see that my son will be in good hands here.” Lord Balinor says to Uther, but Arthur suspects that the words are actually for him. The King glances at his son briefly, smile firmly in place.

“I can assure you that he will be treated as befitting his new Royal status.” Uther promises sincerely. Balinor and Hunith both smile, the latter having something that looks suspiciously like tears in her eyes.

“We have no doubt that he will be treated fairly, my Lord.” Hunith says, shooting Arthur and her son a watery smile.

Arthur meets her eyes directly as he says, “I promise to protect your son with my life. I will never let any harm come to him. As long as I am around, his heart and soul will remain safe.” His pledge is solemn and sincere. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he never looks away from Hunith’s face. Not even when he feels Merlin shift beside him, lacing their hands together and giving his a firm squeeze. A few tears slip over her cheeks as she beams at him, nodding.

“I know.” She says softly, voice hoarse and choked.

“You are a good man, Arthur.” Balinor says, pulling Arthur’s unwavering gaze to him instead. “I had heard of your people’s admiration for you when I made the offer of my son’s hand in marriage. I wouldn’t have had I heard otherwise. Meeting you now has only strengthened those views for me. I would not allow my precious son to go with anyone else.”

Balinor’s words bring an unexpected lump to Arthur’s throat, and he has to swallow thickly before he can thank him. Balinor simply nods, face serious, before the whole table returns to their plates. Conversation shifts back to simpler territory, going back to topics that flow easily and elicit laughter throughout the group. Arthur is distinctly aware that Morgana has noticed him start to eat with his other hand, Merlin still clutched to his right under the table. He avoids her smug smiles.

After dinner, Arthur walks Merlin back to his chambers. They had a big day ahead of them tomorrow, and they both needed their rest. Arthur had a sinking feeling that he would not be getting much sleep at all that night. Merlin looked like he was thinking the same thing.

“Did you mean it?” Merlin asks as they come to a stop outside the wooden doors. “What you said to my parents back there?”

Arthur makes sure that their gazes are locked when he replies, “Every word, Merlin. Every word and more.”

Merlin’s resulting smile could rival the sun, and all Arthur wants to do it pull him into his arms and taste his enticing lips. He doesn’t, however, knowing that, that too is considered improper behaviour for the Prince. Still, the temptation is there, and it takes all his will power to take a step back. There was more than enough time tomorrow for Arthur to act on his desires should Merlin also be willing.

“Good night, Merlin.” He says softly instead. “I will see you tomorrow.”

Merlin’s smile melts into something softer, but still stirs something in Arthur’s chest. “I look forward to tomorrow. Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur’s blood is still buzzing through his veins when he gets back to his own chambers. He spots a sleeping draught on his table, no doubt left there for him by Gaius, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He would need all the help he could get to fall asleep that night. His servant helps him change quickly, leaving him alone to crawl into bed. Tomorrow, his life would change forever. He found he didn’t much mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur had never been a morning person, but on the morning of his wedding, he was up well before his servant showed up to wake him. The man was smart enough not to mention it, just placed his tray of breakfast on the table and silently moved to pull out Arthur’s spotlessly clean Royal wardrobe. Arthur chewed through his breakfast, not really tasting it, as he watched his clothes be laid out over his changing screen. He was still hours away from the ceremony and already his stomach was busy tying itself up in knots. He gets through half of his breakfast before pushing the tray away.

Rising to his feet, he moves behind the screen, and starts pulling his looser sleep tunic off over his head. Just as he is loosening the laces in his nearly threadbare trousers, the doors to his chambers bang open, allowing his unannounced guest to walk into his chambers.

“Arthur.” His father says, and he feels his shoulders relax slightly. He continues to undo the unfortunate knot in the laces.

“Father.” He says, poking his tongue out as he fights uselessly. He really didn’t want to have to ask his servant for help in front of the King.

“I came to see how you were feeling. You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Uther’s voice seems to fill the room. Arthur’s mind is suddenly filled with images of Merlin. His sparkling blue eyes. The almost sassy tilt of his grins. The way his cheekbones were highlighted when he blushed.

“Of course not.” Arthur replies easily, almost sighing in relief when the stubborn knot finally comes loose. He quickly strips himself of them, and grabs the pair his servant picked out for him. They were a rich black, and rather snug fitting.

Some shuffling footsteps precede his father’s words of, “That’s good. I do feel this will be a good union for the kingdom. Of course, you will still need to produce an heir, but those details can be worked out between the two of you when you are ready. It has shown great maturity on your part, your acceptance of this union. I am very proud of you, Arthur.”

Arthur pauses in pulling his fancy white tunic on. Both the casual statement about him fathering at least _a_ child, and the pronouncement that his father was proud of him, bring him pause. It was not often that his father directly told Arthur he was proud of him. Sure, it had been implied, both verbally and simply through body language, but he was definitely not used to actually hearing it straight from the man’s lips. Shaking himself, he pulls the tunic on completely, then steps out from behind the screen.

“Thank you, Father.” He says quietly. “I have always only wanted to make you proud.” His father actually smiles at him as he takes Arthur’s red coat from his servant’s hands, and approaches his son. Arthur looks up at him as his father stops in front of him.

“You’ve always made me proud, Arthur. I know I do not say it enough, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” Uther says, holding the velvety red fabric up. Arthur obediently turns and allows his father to help him shrug the garment on. The King even goes so far as to smooth out the collar and a few errant wrinkles as Arthur turns around. Arthur looks up at him and nods silently, accepting his father’s statement. His servant steps forward, offering him his sword belt, and he takes it gratefully, happy to have something to do with his hands.

Uther settles his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Today is a big day for you, Arthur. Today, you take the first true step into adulthood. Be brave and strong, as you are in all things, and you will be fine.” He gives Arthur a warm smile, and Arthur’s mouth almost falls open in shock. His father had never been cruel, but he had never been so... _involved_ before. He had seemed content to sit back and let Arthur’s house maids raise him, his servants take care of his daily needs. This new image was a little bewildering for the Prince. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, he just didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to do with it.

He eventually settles on, “Thank you, Father.”

Uther gives his shoulders a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “There is still much to be prepared. I must go make sure that all is well. I can trust that you will be where you need to be, when you need to be there?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, Father. Of course.” Arthur says, only mildly offended that his father apparently didn’t trust him to show up on time to his own wedding.

“Good. I will see you outside the throne room when it’s time.” The King says, turning to exit Arthur’s chambers. Arthur watches him go, almost rendered speechless. This was one side of his father that he had never seen before. He hadn’t even known that it had existed.

Morgana shows up a short time later to help pass the time before the ceremony is set to begin. He is eternally grateful to her, as she takes his mind off what is to happen later that day, and instead brings about nostalgic stories from their youth, and the recent gossip from around the citadel. Apparently, she is very close with her maidservant, Guinevere, and the two spend hours together trying to find out everyone’s business. Apparently Merlin is already popular among the serving staff of the Royal household. Eventually, it is time, and Morgana slips out ahead of him to get to the throne room on time. Arthur has to take several deep, steadying breaths before he can follow.

He meets Uther outside the throne room, and when the doors open, they enter together, side by side. Arthur looks straight ahead, not daring to look at the vast amount of people gathered to see him wed. They come to a stop at the top of the room, where Geoffrey is waiting for them. Uther takes a few steps back, leaving Arthur front and centre to turn back to the room and await Merlin.

When Merlin finally steps into the room, Arthur’s heart nearly skips a beat. He’s dressed much like Arthur himself, but instead of red, he’s wearing a rich navy blue that almost makes him glow. He looks, for lack of a better word, beautiful. The large smile on his face as he advances through the room only enhances the whole image. When he finally comes to a stop in front of Arthur, Geoffrey instructs them to grasp hands. Arthur steadfastly ignores how his skin tingles as their hands dutifully meet between them.

The whole ceremony itself doesn’t take long at all. Geoffrey reads out some words, Arthur and Merlin repeating some back to him, and agreeing to take each other as their lawfully wedded partners. A lush green garland is wrapped around their hands, and then the whole room is on their feet, clapping and cheering. Merlin blushes pink as he gives Arthur an almost secretive smile.

They are given some time to themselves before the feast is to be held, and Arthur immediately pulls Merlin to his chambers. He just needs to get away from prying eyes for a bit, and his chambers have always felt like a safe haven to him. Merlin looks around as they step inside, having never been in them before. Arthur just steps back and watches his new husband look around, running his fingers over the backs of chairs, stepping forward to look at the view outside one of the windows. When he finally turns back to face Arthur, it’s been a solid few minutes. Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of gazing at the man stood before him.

“So,” he says, pushing off the wall where he had been leaning, “how does it feel to officially be the Royal Consort of the Prince of Camelot?” He asks.

Merlin scrunches up his nose, pretending to think hard about it. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel much different, to be honest. I seemed pretty well loved by everyone when I was just plain me. I doubt my new status will change that much.”

Arthur snorts out a laugh and Merlin grins in victory. Once he is close enough, he reaches out and tentatively takes both of Merlin’s hands in his own. He can’t explain it really, but for some reason, everything feels different now. He’s not entirely sure what to do. It’s not like he’s had an abundance of experience in these kinds of matters in the past. He gets a brief flash of a fumbling kiss out behind the stables.

He looks up at Merlin sincerely. “Trust me, Merlin, there has never been anything _plain_ about you.”

Merlin gets an unreadable expression on his face before he tugs Arthur forward into a warm hug. Arthur melts into him, his warmth, and suddenly feels so at home that he never wants to leave. He would happily stay here, wrapped up in Merlin’s arms, for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, he can’t. A reminder of that is set in the form of his servant come to beckon them back to the public eye for the feast. Arthur wants to tell him to go away, but dutifully steps out of Merlin’s embrace instead. Merlin takes his hand as they make their way back through the castle.

The feast turns out to almost be a ball of sorts, with entertainment and dancing. After eating, Arthur is horrified to feel Merlin pulling him to his feet with surprising strength and leading him against his will to the open area where couples are swaying to the music. Arthur knew how to dance, that wasn’t the issue. He simply _hated_ doing it. Merlin just gets a look in his eyes that reminds him entirely too much of Morgana, and pulls him in close. Once he feels Merlin’s lithe body pressed against him, he has little choice but to give in.

After several goblets of spiced wine, Arthur finds himself dancing with Morgana. They move well together, considering they were forced to be each other’s partners throughout all their dance lessons over the years. Merlin is swaying with his mother, who is obviously crying. Arthur can’t help but smile at the look that Merlin has on his face. It’s one of intense love and fierce devotion. Morgana turns her head to see what Arthur is gazing at.

“He looks at you like that, too, you know.” She says. “When you’re not looking.”

Arthur gives her a startled frown. “He does not. He barely knows me.” He protests.

Morgana gives him _the look_. “And how would you know if it’s only when you aren’t looking?” She asks sweetly. Arthur merely rolls his eyes. “He seems quite happy. You both do.” She observes as they take a few mildly complicated steps. Arthur has to bite his lip in concentration, he’s a little out of practice, before he can properly reply.

“I am happy.” Arthur says matter-of-factly. “Only time will tell if this union is in fact a good one, but for now, I am happy.”

Morgana smiles at him. “Then I am happy too. I like Merlin. I’ve said it before, but he’s a good match for you.” She says earnestly. Arthur just smiles, knowing that his sister isn’t saying this so she can be praised with thanks. She’s telling him to help soothe that ever present shadow of self doubt that stubbornly hangs over everything he does like a heavy raincloud. Persistent, and foreboding, and occasionally treacherous.

As the song comes to an end, Arthur and Morgana separate. Before he can go anywhere though, she catches his wrist. “I will distract your father. Go enjoy some time alone with your new husband. You’ve both been out here long enough.”

He blushes bright red at her lewd wink as she spins him around and physically pushes him toward Merlin. Merlin glances over at the movement, and steps away from his mother. He says a few things to her, getting a cheeky grin from the woman in response (which makes Merlin’s own cheeks flush red as well), and then he’s pushing through the crowd to meet Arthur halfway.

Arthur automatically reaches out to grip one of Merlin’s hands once he’s close enough, and when did _that_ become something so natural to do? Merlin doesn’t protest though. Instead, he shifts their grip until their palms are pressed together and their fingers are laced. When Arthur looks up from their now clasped hands, he is met with sparkling blue eyes. Soft and inviting.

“I’ve been informed by Morgana that we are to leave. Apparently we’ve been here long enough.” His statement makes a laugh bubble up in Merlin’s throat, and Arthur almost kisses him right there, in the middle of the dance floor, with various couples spinning around them.

“Well, who are we to ignore a direct order like that?” Merlin teases with a smile. Arthur wrinkles his nose, wanting to point out that he doesn’t take orders from anyone except his father. He doesn’t though, instead just shrugging in compliance. He glances around, eyes scanning the crowd for his father, and finds the King deep in conversation with Morgana herself. Arthur grins and gives Merlin’s hand a tug.

“Come on, lets go.” The two slip through the crowd, no one daring to stop the Prince himself as he makes a break for the exit. The alcohol in the wine has loosened him up, and he finds himself laughing with Merlin as they make their escape. The guards outside the doors thankfully say nothing as the pair slips out into the hall, merely watching them as they leave down the hall toward the Prince’s chambers.

A fire is cracking merrily as they push through the doors. His servant had clearly been here recently, probably getting word that they were on their way, but thankfully he is nowhere in sight anymore. As the doors close, Arthur swings Merlin around, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. As their foreheads rest together gently, Arthur feels his entire body start to pulse with energy. He hasn’t felt anything this strongly since Marek three years ago, and even then is a mere shadow of what he’s feeling now.

“Stay here tonight.” He murmurs into the limited space between them. When he opens his eyes and sees Merlin’s flashing with uncertainly, he adds, “Not _like that_. I just... I feel calmer when you’re around. More relaxed and at ease. I can’t really explain it, but I like having you close to me. Now that we have been wed before Camelot, it is proper for you to stay in my chambers with me, and I would like you to if you are willing.”

He can feel the raw vulnerability that is no doubt showing on his face. A flicker of _something_ crosses over Merlin’s face, but he doesn’t get the chance to comment on it. All previous thoughts practically melt out of his ears as Merlin presses closer, and finally presses his much-too-distracting lips to Arthur’s. Arthur’s breath hitches noticeably as he kisses back. This is nothing like it had been three years ago. Where that one was unsure and contained a bit too much knocking of teeth, this one is gentle but confident.

Arthur’s mind is reeling as they slowly part. He blinks at Merlin dazedly, not even able to string together more than two words in his head, let alone physically out loud. He thankfully doesn’t need to, as it’s Merlin who speaks first.

“If it is your wish for me to stay here with you, then you can have me for as long as you want.” His voice is just loud enough for Arthur to hear, but so sure and firm that it makes Arthur’s heart skip a beat. “I know that neither of us are ready to properly consummate this marriage just yet, but I want you to know that when the time comes, I am willing.”

Arthur surges forward to seal their lips together again, content with the knowledge that he can do this whenever he wants to now. They exchange kisses for a while; lazy ones, shy ones, exploring ones, ones filled with the promise of future intent. When they pull apart for the last time, Arthur summons his servant and sends him to fetch Merlin’s nightclothes.

They change separately behind the screen, meeting shyly on either side of the bed. Once they finally pull back the covers, they gravitate toward each other in the middle. Arthur has never felt so drawn to another person before, almost like they were fated to end up here together, like they were physically made to make each other whole. He sleeps soundly that night with Merlin curled warmly into his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We be heading for angsty waters in the next chapter!! (Nothing too extreme... I’m just apparently unable to write anything without a teeny amount of pain in it somewhere)


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a week after the wedding ceremony that Arthur finally finds the time to take Merlin and disappear from the city for a bit. He manages to snag one of his knights, Sir Kay, early enough that morning to let him know that he was leaving for a few days, so he wouldn’t be there for their usual training sessions. By then, his servant had the horses ready and was just lashing on their rations and their other belongings. Merlin was standing nearby, talking to him animatedly.

Arthur had never been one for excessive amounts of physical contact, especially the affectionate variety, but he found himself almost magnetically drawn to Merlin whenever they were in the same space. He stepped up close to Merlin, letting his arm slip around his waist. Merlin pauses his conversation with _William_? Arthur had spent the last two months thinking his servant’s name was _Richard_. He looked up at Arthur with a smile, but there was something off about his eyes. For the first time since his arrival in Camelot, they were shuttered. He had closed himself off, at least from Arthur. Come to think of it, he had been like this since Arthur informed him of their plans that morning.

“Is everything all right, Merlin?” He asks quietly, so only the man beside him can hear. Merlin’s smile looks a little strained as he nods.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Merlin replies, and if Arthur wasn’t already suspecting something, he might’ve been fooled. He gives Merlin a hard look, wanting to push for answers, but decides that he can wait until they are out of Camelot. Perhaps Merlin would be more open to conversation when they were alone. A city this size, who knows who could be listening.

Arthur steps away from Merlin as _William_ (apparently) finalizes what he’s doing, and steps back to hand over their respective reins. Arthur takes Llamrei’s, succumbing to a smile as she lips affectionately at his fingers. He lets his fingertips gloss over the soft fuzz of her nose before moving to her side and lifting his foot to the stirrup. He swings up into the saddle, being sure to land gently on her back, settling into the leather tack comfortably. Merlin mounts his horse beside him, and glances over to meet the Prince’s eyes.

“Ready?” Arthur asks.

“Yes.” Merlin replies. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where we’re going?” He adds on, an eyebrow quirked.

Arthur chuckles. “It’s a surprise, Merlin. You can trust me not to lead you to your death, don’t worry.” He jokes. Something flickers across Merlin’s face, something dark, and Arthur is even more sure now that Merlin isn’t telling him something. He opens his mouth to ask, but snaps it shut again as his father appears at the top of the stone steps leading down to the courtyard.

“Arthur, are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of the knights with you for protection?” The King asks, eyes glancing quickly at Merlin before settling back on Arthur. Arthur _almost_ sighs. He had been through this with his father at length the night before when he had informed his father of his plans. His stance on the subject had not changed since then. Apparently, neither had the King’s.

“Yes, Father.” Arthur replies, being sure to keep all traces of annoyance out of his tone. The last thing he wanted to do was anger the King. “I am more than capable of protecting the two of us should anything happen, but nothing will. The kingdom has been very quiet these past few months. While I admit it is foolish to assume that all is well, I am comfortable with the knowledge that my skills will keep us safe.”

Uther purses his lips unhappily, but nods all the same. “Very well. Be careful, Arthur.”

“You know me, I’m always careful.” Arthur says, barely keeping a straight face. The King cracks a small smile as Arthur steers Llamrei around and urges her into a trot across the cobblestones. Merlin follows beside him, unnaturally quiet. Arthur once again feels the urge to question him, but pushes it back down. _Later_. He can dig for all the answers he wants later.

He relaxes significantly as they leave the city walls behind. His image in the public eye, his Princely duties, all of it is stripped away for the time being, and he is left feeling so light he almost doesn’t recognize himself. He glances at Merlin steadily trotting beside him, and grins.

“It’s nice, getting out of the city for a bit, isn’t it?” He asks. Merlin jumps, like he had been startled ever so slightly, making Arthur frown. “Are you all right?” He asks again.

Merlin looks over, almost guiltily, and nods. “Yes, to both your questions.” He replies with a forced ease. “I’m fine, don’t worry, and you seem happier out here in nature than you do in the citadel. It suits you.” He offers up such a charming grin that Arthur feels himself get totally disarmed. How do you argue with a look like that?

Arthur looks back forward before replying, “I am happy. You may not have noticed, but as Prince, I don’t actually have very many freedoms inside the city. There is a lot of Royal etiquette that must be taken into consideration. How would it look to the kingdom if I didn’t strictly adhere to those practices?” His voice sounds almost bitter as he repeats the words he had heard from his father oh so many times.

“Are those your words, or your father’s words?” Merlin asks quietly. Arthur shoots him a crooked smile.

“Doesn’t make much of a difference, does it?” He retorts quickly. “But enough of that. We’re here to relax and just enjoy ourselves.” Arthur pushes Llamrei up into a canter, steering her expertly along the trail cut though the trees. Merlin follows willingly, weaving through the forest behind him. With every step away from Camelot that they take, the more the feeling that something is going to happen grows in his chest. Not necessarily something dangerous. Just that something is going to happen that is going to change everything. He isn’t sure if it’s a welcome feeling or not.

They ride for most of the day, stopping regularly to give the horses breaks. After the first hour or so, Merlin seems to relax, shifting back into the man that Arthur had come to know. Merlin’s return to normal also helps Arthur to relax more, and as the day progresses, he becomes less and less tentative to pull Merlin close to him whenever they get off to rest the horses. Merlin always goes willingly, allowing Arthur to curl his arms around him. One thing that Arthur does notice, is that as the day grows longer, Merlin becomes more reluctant to step away from Arthur to continue their journey. He dismisses the idea as a trick of his mind.

When they finally reach their destination, Arthur pulls Llamrei up, wanting to watch Merlin’s reaction. Nestled in a small clearing, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, is a small cabin. He had been told that it had belonged to his mother’s family, and while his father never wanted, or could, venture out this far, he was always welcome. The lush greenery surrounding the cabin contrasted beautifully with the dark logs that the structure was made from. No one would bother them out here. Merlin was gazing at the whole scene with wide eyes.

“It’s beautiful, Arthur.” He breathes. Arthur has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something stupid like, _‘No, you’re beautiful.’_

“There’s a small paddock on the other side for the horses. We should get them ready for the night before it gets dark.” He says instead. Already the sun had dipped below the tops of the trees. Merlin nods absently, and Arthur leads them closer, dismounting from his mare as the fence comes into view. He unties his supplies from the back of his saddle, then pulls her tack off completely. She immediately wanders further into the pen, head dropping to munch on the green grass. A small stream gurgled happily across one of the back corners, allowing them fresh water. When Merlin’s mount moves to join Llamrei, Arthur turns to face his husband.

Reaching out a hand to Merlin, he says, “Come on. Let’s get inside.” Merlin smiles at him and takes his outstretched hand, but his eyes look guarded again for the first time in hours. Arthur swallows his questions as he tugs Merlin close and leads them back around to the cabin door.

Inside is dark, and smells of years of disuse. Still, there’s a friendly feeling to it’s atmosphere. They separate as the door shuts, Arthur moving to drop their supplies near the small bed in the corner as Merlin goes to get a fire started. Crackling flames fill the small interior, and Arthur gets a jolt of _home_ as he glances over his shoulder and sees Merlin’s face illuminated by the glow of the firelight. The dancing flames cast ever changing shadows over his whole body, still crouched on the hearth. Arthur’s breath gets caught in his throat. _Beautiful_.

Merlin’s head jerks up, and Arthur blushes as he realizes he had said that one single word out loud. However, Merlin is giving him that same secretive smile he seems to save only for Arthur himself, and the whole world seems to settle into place around them. Then that shadow crosses his face, and Merlin inhales sharply as he gets to his feet.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, voice unsteady as he tracks Merlin’s movements around the room. Further away from him.

“Arthur.” He says, voice strained. “There... there’s something I need to tell you, and you aren’t going to like it.” Merlin’s words remind Arthur of him telling his father that he didn’t want to marry a princess back when he was sixteen. He remembers his father’s reaction, and he vows silently to himself to handle whatever Merlin has to tell him just as well. Merlin’s eyes look almost panicky as Arthur crosses over to him and curls his left hand around the back of his neck, fingers playing idly with the hairs on the nape of his neck, his right hand circling one of Merlin’s wrists.

“You can tell me anything, Merlin. You don’t have to be afraid.” He says sincerely. His heart twists as Merlin’s eyes flick away from his, filling with tears as he obviously debates internally over something. “Merlin?”

He almost doesn’t recognize Merlin when he finally looks back and says, “I wanted to tell you sooner. I did. I just... I was told not to.”

Now Arthur is unbearably confused. “Wanted to tell me what? You’re not making any sense, Merlin.” He urges gently. Merlin opens his mouth, only to close it again silently to swallow thickly.

“I...” He lifts tortured eyes to meet Arthur’s again. “I’m sorry.” He breathes. Arthur presses his fingertips gently into the skin of Merlin’s neck.

“Sorry for what?” He asks gently, heart thudding erratically in his chest.

“I have... magic. I have magic. I was born with it.” Merlin says shakily. Arthur’s entire body freezes, blood running cold as he stares at the complete stranger in front of him. Merlin’s eyes flash with pain and fear as he lets his hands slide from Merlin’s skin, coming to rest at his sides as he takes a step backward. _Magic_. Merlin was a... sorcerer. He was married to a sorcerer.

“Magic?” He hears himself croak out brokenly. Merlin takes an aborted step toward him, causing Arthur to stumble back a few more steps.

Merlin is oozing desperation as he restlessly runs his hands back through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I should’ve told you sooner, but my father told me not to.”

Arthur curls his lip slightly, eyes flashing as he looks up at his _husband_. “Why?” He demands in a low voice.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Arthur. I’m not here to hurt anyone. My father told me not to tell you before we were wed because you needed time to trust me before I finally did.” Merlin rushes, nearly stumbling over the words. His voice has raised slightly, a pitch higher than normal, and Arthur vaguely wonders what he looks like right now. Was he scaring Merlin? _Good_.

“Why are you here, Merlin? To get close to the King and finally do what all your predecessors couldn’t? Am I next on your list?” He spits.

Merlin visibly flinches back as if he had been physically struck. “No!” He cries. “Like I said, I’m not here to hurt anybody! I want to prove to you that the people who have magic are not all evil, that’s all!”

Arthur falters as he sees the sincerity in his husband’s eyes. “Why?” He asks warily, not sure he’ll even believe the answer he gets. Had everything between them been a lie? The thought sends a lance of pain through his chest, and he realizes with horror that he was already falling in love.

“Because you are a better man than your father, Arthur. You can right the wrongs he has committed to so many innocent people. He’s infected your mind with unwarranted fear. I merely hoped I could help you.” Merlin has his hands out, palms facing Arthur, as if he’s warding off a potential attack.

Arthur feels his face twist in pain, and he turns his back on Merlin, something in the back of his mind telling him that Merlin wasn’t dangerous. Even now, he wasn’t a threat. Betrayal, lies, and uncertainty are fogging up his mind. He runs his hands up into his hair, tugging harshly on the strands. He can feel each laboured breath in his chest. This wasn’t happening. _This couldn’t be happening._

“You should’ve told me sooner.” He whispers, and he barely recognizes his own voice.

“Would it have made a difference?” Merlin asks. There’s something lurking in his voice that Arthur can’t place.

“Yes!” Arthur yells as he whirls around. The words tastes bitter and untrue on his tongue. Merlin flinches back again, tears now visible in his eyes. Even now, after all that he now knew, Arthur hates seeing his husband so distraught. “I don’t know.” He amends quietly. Merlin looks at him hopefully.

Arthur stays where he is as Merlin takes a cautious step closer. As had become normal, Arthur’s entire body soothes as Merlin closes the distance between them. A startling thought pops into his head, and he snaps his eyes up to meet Merlin’s accusingly. He seems to read Arthur’s mind, because he looks sufficiently scandalized as he comes to a stop.

“You are _not_ under any enchantment. I would never use my magic against you.” He snaps. For some reason, Arthur believes him. “You can trust me, Arthur. You still know me. These past few days have been just as real for you as they have been for me. I promise.”

When Merlin reaches out to touch him again, Arthur inhales sharply and shuffles back a step instinctively. Merlin’s face crumples in pain at the movement. Arthur’s heart twists savagely again. This is wrong. This is all wrong. This was never supposed to happen. Those treacherous tears are back in Merlin’s eyes as he bites his lip and looks up sadly to meet Arthur’s wary ones.

“You made a promise to my parents to protect me. You vowed to keep me safe. Has that changed?” Merlin asks so quietly that Arthur almost doesn’t hear him.

“No.” His instant reply surprises even him. “No.” He repeats, softer this time. “I just, I need time, Merlin. This changes things.” He says.

The hope in Merlin’s eyes extinguishes. He nods miserably as he croaks out a hoarse, “Okay.”

Arthur takes a step closer to him, drawing his red-rimmed eyes up. “You can’t tell anyone else about this. If anyone else finds out, my father will kill you, my husband or not. I can only protect you if you keep quiet about this.” Merlin nods. “I need to hear you say it, Merlin.”

“I promise, Arthur. I won’t tell anyone.” Arthur nods at Merlin’s words, exhaling shakily through his nose. That need for physical contact washes over him suddenly, threatening to drown him, and without thinking, he steps forward and tugs Merlin into a hug.

When Merlin tenses against him, he murmurs, “I’m not going to hurt you. For better or worse, we are bound now. We can’t change that. I just need time to adjust.”

Merlin sniffles suspiciously, but hesitantly wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist. Arthur can feel the panic trying to rise up his chest, and tries to battle it down. His gut feeling from before had been right. Everything was different now. There was no going back. He was married to a sorcerer, living in a kingdom where sorcerers were put to death. Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick as he pulls out of Merlin’s arms and leaves to go sit outside.


	6. Chapter 6

The atmosphere around them was tense on their way back to Camelot. Arthur didn’t ignore Merlin’s existence, per se, but he made sure to keep some distance between them at all times. His mind was a mess, thoughts scrambling up so badly that he barely knew up from down, and left from right. He felt like his whole world had been picked up and shook upside down. In short, he was panicking. He had no idea what to do, and that scared him. The only thing that terrified him more, was that despite what Merlin was, he still couldn’t imagine his life without the man beside him. It was almost like Merlin had somehow completed his very soul, and to lose him was unthinkable. Still, it was hard to overcome eighteen years of being told magic was evil.

As they get closer to Camelot, Arthur has to force himself to relax and ride a bit closer to Merlin. They had discussed it that morning, and agreed that they had to keep up the pretence of their happy union to avoid anyone getting suspicious. Or rather, Arthur had made the decision that, that was what they were going to do, and Merlin had meekly agreed. Arthur may not have known Merlin for very long, but he had never expected the man to be _meek_ about anything. Perhaps he was still afraid that Arthur was going to hand him over to the King. Arthur didn’t bother correcting him.

“Remember, not a word to anyone.” Arthur says quietly as they approach the city.

“I know. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.” Merlin replies.

“Good. Time to go play the happy couple.” Arthur says, steering Llamrei as close to Merlin’s horse as was safe, and leading them confidently into the city. He shoots Merlin a glance as they approach the courtyard. Merlin meets his eyes and nods. He’s willing to play along with whatever Arthur does. When they come to a stop, two grooms approach, holding the horses’ bridles as the two men dismount. Merlin doesn’t even blink as Arthur steps closer and curls his hand into his.

“Be sure to wipe them down well.” Arthur instructs the grooms. “They’ve had a long journey.” The two staff nod obediently, and start to lead the horses away. Arthur looks at Merlin beside him, giving him a small smile. He’s surprised to find that it isn’t as forced as he expected it to be. With a gentle tug on his hand, he proceeds to lead his husband inside, intent on getting them to the relative safety of their chambers.

As soon as the heavy doors are closed behind them, Arthur sighs softly and pulls his hand from Merlin’s. He ignores the man as he moves further into the room, pulling his sweaty tunic off over his head and tossing it toward the basket holding their combined laundry. When he does finally glance back at Merlin, Arthur finds him exactly where he had left him. His expression looks pained as he eyes Arthur warily.

“Arthur—“ He starts, but the Prince holds up a hand to silence him.

“Look, Merlin, I know you’re sorry, but that doesn’t really change things, does it? What happened, has happened. We must move forward, but I need to do that alone for now. All right?” He asks, voice coming out harsher due to his desperate _need_ to cover up his own hurt and confusion. He almost moves back to his husband, needing to comfort him, as Merlin’s shoulders slump in defeat and he nods miserably. He manages to keep his feet firmly in place.

Without meeting his eyes, Merlin asks, “Would you like me to go back to my previous chambers, my Lord?” Arthur almost flinches at the formality.

“No.” He replies without hesitation. “If we are to keep up the image of our marriage to the people, you must remain here.”

Merlin bites his lip and drops his eyes to his feet. For the first time since everything happened, Arthur briefly contemplates how hard this must be for Merlin as well. He doesn’t linger on those thoughts, however, not liking how they stir up the protective instincts that had appeared upon their first meeting. Merlin had done this to himself, and so must face the consequences.

From there, they slip into an uneasy and painful routine. When they are outside of their chambers, they are just as physically affectionate with each other as they had been previously. Arthur’s treacherous heart was still the happiest when he had Merlin snuggled safely into his side, arms wound around him protectively. No one seemed any the wiser about the shift in their previously budding relationship. The fact that Merlin was such a good actor, such a good _liar_ , made unpleasant emotions curl incessantly in his gut. Even Arthur almost believed the soft smiles and doe-eyed looks he was receiving from the dark haired man.

In the solitude of their chambers, things were very different. They spoke only when it was necessary, and very rarely made eye contact. Night was the worst, both of them sleeping on separate edges of the bed. Arthur found himself increasingly unable to sleep, only able to focus on the heat radiating from the body so close to him, yet to seemingly eternally far. It didn’t take long after this new arrangement was formed that Merlin started to avoid being alone with Arthur as much as possible. It was a few days after their return that Arthur got his first idea of what he was doing instead. He was sneaking off with Morgana.

The first time he had seen them was an accident. He had forgotten something in his chambers before a council meeting, and so was on his way back to retrieve it. He was taking a different, shorter route to save time, when he saw his husband and his sister moving through the castle halls stealthily, no doubt on their way to her chambers. He had stopped in the middle of the hall, undetected, and watched them with his mouth hanging open as they disappeared around the corner ahead of him. He wasn’t sure which feeling was winning as they battled out in his chest: the bleeding hurt in his heart, or the deep-rooted sense of _mine_ curling hotly in his gut.

After that, he made a point of looking for them whenever Merlin wasn’t around him. Sure enough, they snuck off together every day for a week after their return to Camelot. Arthur was blindsided. Sure, he might not be at his best right now, but did that give his sister and his husband the right to so blatantly sneak around behind his back? He had never really been jealous before, but the feeling was an unmistakable and unwelcome one. _How dare they?_

Arthur finally decided that he’d had enough after a week of the two of them playing him for the fool. He made a show of leaving Merlin in their chambers to go down to train with the knights. Instead, he ducked into one of the sunken doorways and waited. Sure enough, a few minutes after his departure, the doors opened and Merlin peeked his head out. He looked up and down the hallway, Arthur pressing further into his hiding spot to avoid detection, before slipping out and waking down the hall away from him. Arthur stepped out into the open to follow him, being sure to move as stealthily as possible to avoid his armour and maille jangling and clanking, and giving him away. He pauses around the corner to Morgana’s chambers, peeking around just in time to see his husband disappear inside. A blazing anger ignites in his chest as he pushes off the wall and approaches the door.

Without knocking, he didn’t want to give them a chance to hide, he bursts through Morgana’s chamber doors. He hears a yelp that is distinctly Merlin, and an annoyed huff that could belong to no one but his sister. His furious eyes find them at her desk, parchment spread out over the surface.

“Arthur,” Morgana snaps, “have you never heard of knocking?”

Arthur glares at her. “And give you a chance to try and cover up whatever _this_ is? Never.” He growls, fingers gesturing between the other two occupants in the room. Morgana lifts an arched eyebrow.

“And what exactly is it that you think we’re trying to cover up?” She asks cooly. Arthur‘s hands clench into fists at his sides.

“We may not have always seen things eye to eye over the years, Morgana, but Merlin is _my_ husband, not _yours_. You have no right to try and steal him away from me.” He hisses venomously.

Morgana scowls at him. “You haven’t been doing a very good job at being his _husband_ , Arthur. However, even if I _had_ wanted to steal him away, he is incredibly loyal toward you.” She snarls. Arthur shifts his blazing eyes to Merlin, who is standing a few steps away from his sister. He looks pale, and scandalized, and angry, and scared all at once.

He looks back at his sister ferociously. “Then what have the two of you been sneaking off behind my back to do?” He asks savagely.

Surprisingly, it’s Merlin who replies. “She asked me to help her with something she was working on. Said she valued my opinion and expertise on the matter.” Arthur’s blood runs cold at the implications of that statement. _No, please say he hadn’t opened his big mouth._

“Help on what?” Arthur grinds out from between clenched teeth.

Morgana pushes to her feet so she can glare at Arthur from eye level. “Help with drafting up potential new laws on magic.” She states simply.

Arthur shifts his furious eyes back to Merlin. “You told her? After I expressly told you _not_ to tell anyone else?” He nearly explodes. He’s shaking, he’s so angry.

“No!” Merlin yells. “I made a promise not to tell anyone, and _I kept it_!” Arthur suspects that there’s a backhanded jab at him concealed thinly in that statement, but doesn’t stop to analyze it just yet. He opens his mouth to reply heatedly, but Morgana cuts him off.

“Merlin didn’t say a word. In fact, when I confronted him about it, he denied it vehemently. When he finally realized that I did actually know, he _begged_ me not to tell you.” Her voice is shaking, _quivering_ , with barely held back anger.

Arthur curls his lip up into a sneer. “And how did you figure it out? Pray tell.”

Morgana pulls herself up to her full height, eyes flashing dangerously. “When someone has as much magical power as Merlin does, others can sense it. It’s like a shift in the air that only those who have magic can feel. I sensed it from the moment he arrived. When you returned from your trip, and you were acting off, I decided to confront Merlin about it.”

Arthur stares at her blankly, letting the full implications of his sister’s words truly register in his mind. _‘Only those who have magic can feel.’_ He once again feels like his whole world is tilting, the floor somehow being tugged out from under his feet. He stumbles forward, letting his hands come to rest on the back of a chair to prevent himself from ending up in a heap on the floor.

“You have magic, too?” He breathes, finally looking up at her.

“There are many things about me that you do not know, Arthur Pendragon.” She says firmly. He lets his head fall back forward, hanging between his arms.

“Why did you never tell me?” He asks, defeated. Morgana scoffs, wrenching his eyes up.

“Do I really need to grace that with an answer?” She bites out, making Arthur wince. The two people that he considered to be the closest to his heart both possessed magic. What was he supposed to do with that knowledge?

A heavy and painful silence stretches out between them all as Arthur desperately scrambles for solid ground in his mind. He startles when a gentle hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Looking up, he finds Merlin looking down at him with concerned eyes. The look and the touch soothe something in Arthur’s chest, the feeling of this still being _right_ bubbling up to the surface. He gives Merlin a tentative smile, and gets an equally hesitant one in return. But there’s hope there, too. Lurking in those expressive blue eyes.

Arthur then turns to Morgana. “You should have felt like you could’ve told me. I’m sorry that you didn’t. I promise you now that you, both of you, are safe with me. I will protect you to the best of my abilities.” His voice is quiet, but firm and sincere. If both his sister and his husband had magic, how could his father be right? How could magic be wholly evil?

“I know that now.” Morgana says, eyes flicking to Merlin.

Arthur straightens up, looking from Morgana, then to Merlin. “From now on, I want to be included in drafting these laws whenever possible. As Prince, I am privy to how laws are shaped and implemented. I will be able to help sculpt these drafts into something that can be useable once I am king.”

Morgana nods, giving him a small, approving smile. Before she can say anything, however, Arthur is nearly knocked over from the force of Merlin jumping on him in a fierce hug. His arms instinctively wrap around the man’s waist, holding him close. He feels Merlin bury his face in his neck, hiding something that suspiciously feels like tears. Arthur only holds him tighter.

“Well,” Morgana says, pulling Arthur’s attention to her. “I’m glad we got that sorted out. Although, Arthur, how could you _possibly_ assume the worst of us? I’m your sister, I would never betray you like that.” Something flashes in her eyes at the word _sister_ , but Arthur ignores it. He’s had far too many startling revelations lately to even think of delving into another one.

Arthur grimaces. “I’m sorry. I saw the two of you sneak off, and jumped to awful conclusions. Neither of you deserved that, and I want you to know that trust you both. I simply got a little—“

“Possessive?” Merlin asks, voice muffled against his skin. He snuffles a soft laugh into his neck as he feels Arthur shrug helplessly.

“Something like that, yes.” Arthur admits. Merlin lifts his head finally, and Arthur nearly melts at the look in Merlin’s eyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever had such a loving look shot his way before.

Morgana moves to hide away the parchment on her desk. “You two clearly have some things to work out, so go. We can come back to this later.” She makes a shooing gesture with her hands, returning Arthur’s grateful smile with one of her own. He can read the unspoken _‘fix whatever it is you so stupidly broke’_ look written across her features. He nods silently at her, and escorts Merlin from the room.

Things shift back to slightly awkward once they are alone together in their chambers. Arthur looks at Merlin shifting uneasily beside him, and all his animosity and hurt seems to slide away, like a bird molting it’s dead feathers to allow for new growth.

“Merlin.” Arthur says softly. He waits until he has the man’s attention before continuing. “You asked me if knowing about your magic would’ve changed anything between us before we were married.” Merlin nods tensely. “My answer is no. Magic or not, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Merlin stares at him in wonder, eyes flicking over his face and looking for any trace of a lie. Arthur let’s himself fall open before the scrutiny, needing Merlin to know that he meant it. He cherishes Merlin. He had made a promise to protect his heart and soul, and since he was rubbish as verbal apologies, he _needed_ Merlin to see that he still meant to uphold that promise. He would work out the right words to apologize properly in the future, but for now, he had to hope that this was good enough. Merlin’s whole face softens as he steps closer, hands coming up to cradle Arthur’s jaw. Soft lips connect gently with his, and Arthur’s whole body settles. This was okay. He still had Merlin. Everything was okay again.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, so maybe everything was _not_ fine. If Arthur had thought that living with the knowledge of Merlin having magic was bad enough, it’s nothing compared to now knowing about Morgana as well. Lying to his father about his sexual preferences when he was a teenager was one thing. Concealing not one, but _two_ , sorcerers under the Royal household roof was quite another. Actually, it was treason. The only reason that Arthur didn’t fear for his life was because he was the Prince, the heir to the throne. If Uther sentenced him to death, who would take over as king in his place? Merlin and Morgana didn’t have that luxury, which was enough to drive Arthur mad with worry. And worry, he did. Constantly. Much to specifically Morgana’s annoyance.

Merlin and Morgana has continued to meet everyday to go over their ideas for new magical laws. The only difference now was that Arthur joined them whenever he could. When he couldn’t, Merlin spoke to him at length as they ate dinner together in their chambers, bringing him up to date on what the pair had come up with earlier. Arthur always gave his input, and Merlin always took his council back to Morgana the next day. All three of them felt that they were making good progress, even if they were still a long way off from being satisfied with any of them fully.

Keeping everything from his father was starting to take its toll on Arthur. He was restless, having difficulty sleeping. When he did manage to catch a few fitful hours of sleep, he always ended up awake before dawn, eyes drawn to the slow and rhythmical rise and fall of Merlin’s chest as he slept. If the curtains had been left open, Arthur would sometimes futilely try to count his husband’s dark eyelashes in the moonlight, struck by his beautiful Merlin looked, bathed in a white glow with those dark lashes fanned across his cheekbones.

He had grown quite adept at hiding his exhaustion during their waking hours. He threw himself into his training with the knights, and avoided as many council meetings as he could. He had found being around his father much too difficult with his new secrets. He would never put Merlin and Morgana at risk, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hate lying to his father. His luck, however, ran out about two weeks after their confrontation in Morgana chambers. There would be a council meeting that afternoon, and his father had demanded his presence. The _actual_ wording had been _requested_ , but Arthur knew what that actually meant. Uther very rarely merely _requested_ things of his son. No, he gave orders and expected them to be carried out.

“Perhaps you’ll be surprised, and you’re father won’t order you to do anything awful.” Merlin suggests as he stands behind Arthur’s chair and kneads his aching shoulder muscles. After a particularly long and difficult night, he had, had an unbearably gruelling session with the knights. The moment he had returned to their chambers, and his armour and maille had been pulled off, Merlin had ordered him to sit. Arthur had been confused until Merlin had placed his talented hands on him and dug his fingers in.

Arthur sighs, rolling his head forward as Merlin works closer to his neck. “Since when has my father ever ordered me to do anything particularly pleasant?” He asks, fighting back a pleasure filled groan as Merlin gets to work on the next tight muscle across his back.

Merlin hums behind him in thought. “Well, he brought you me. I like to think I’m pleasant.” He muses, making Arthur snort. He lifts his head again, twisting his neck so he can see Merlin out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes, he did, and for that I am very grateful. However, if he knew the truth about you, our first meeting would have been very different. And involved much more fire and pain on your end.” The Prince replies.

Merlin sighs softly, stopping his massage and instead sliding his arms down and around Arthur’s shoulders, pressing in as close as he can given their current height difference, and hooking his chin over Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur tilts his head to the side, until they’re touching, and closes his eyes. He focuses on simply breathing, soaking up the warmth and comfort that Merlin was supplying.

“Whatever your father wants this afternoon, it’ll be okay. I’ll be right here waiting for you, okay?” Merlin whispers, turning his head slightly to nuzzle at Arthur’s skin. Arthur just nods, not sharing Merlin’s optimism. What if the unthinkable had happened, and his father was now suspicious of his husband? If his father caught even a whiff of magic, there was very little that Arthur could do to stop him. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything were to happen to Merlin. Or Morgana.

Merlin does his best to try to calm Arthur’s mind, but the Prince is still tense and uptight when he leaves. He had been to many council meetings in the past, his father requesting him to be there, but prior requests had always come from another source. One of the knights, or a servant, or even one of the other councilmen. Until now, he had never been summoned directly by his father, the King himself. He had left out that pesky detail when talking to Merlin.

The King looks up as he enters the council chambers, giving Arthur an unreadable smile, putting Arthur’s nerves on edge. Uther gestures to the vacant seat to his right, and Arthur moves to obey. As he sits down stiffly, the King gives him his full attention.

“I’m glad you could make it, Arthur. It’s been a couple weeks since you graced us with your presence.” He says conversationally. Arthur’s heart rate picks up significantly as he tries for an easygoing smile in return.

“Yes. I have found my hands to be full with other matters at the moment.” He replies. It’s not exactly a lie. Still, it’s close enough to the truth that he certainly hopes his father won’t pry for more information.

Uther chuckles. “I imagine so.” Arthur gets terribly confused when his father _winks_ at him. When Uther notices his son’s blank expression, he pats his hand lightly. “It’s fine, Arthur. I have seen how close you and Merlin are. It’s natural for newlyweds to spend a lot of... _time_ together. I’m not angry. In fact, I’m glad to see things have worked out so well. Merlin is a good match for you.”

Arthur’s cheeks burn red as he finally understands his father’s meaning. He thinks that Arthur has been spending all his time lately _making love_ to his husband. The opposite could not be more true. Other than some slightly charged kisses, and maybe a hand under the occasional tunic, they really hadn’t progressed the physical side of their relationship very far. Before he can correct his father, however, the King’s voice booms out, calling for attention.

“There is a matter of great importance that I wish to discuss today.” The King says, eyes flickering down to Arthur for a moment. Fear grips the Prince’s heart again. “Once all other business has been attended to.”

Uther sits, and the meeting begins. His absence for the past couple weeks had led Arthur to forget how truly burning these meetings could be. First one, then another, and another councilman would rise to his feet and say what they came to say. The status on their grain stores. The rumours of mercenaries from neighbouring kingdoms prowling along the borders (this particular one had Arthur sitting up and listening intently). Some farmers in the outlying villages were having some issues with vermin eating their crops. Three sons from a nearby noble family were going to arrive in Camelot in the next coming week to try their hand at becoming knights. A band of druids had been spotted inside the kingdom’s borders.

Uther raises his hand at the last one, getting to his feet. “This brings me to my point.” He says firmly, effectively cutting off whatever the remaining councilmen had to say. His eyes look murderous as he scans the room. Arthur thinks he might throw up. A hush falls over the occupants of the room as the King gestures for some water. A nearby servant scurries forward, goblet on a small tray. Uther takes it, taking his time to drink his fill. Arthur has to force himself to sit still in his chair. The servant scurries back once the goblet is back on her tray.

“The druids.” Uther says. “A group of supposedly peaceful people who possess magic, and foster magic in other. Their steal our very children, corrupting and twisting them until they are no more than instruments of evil. They must be stopped.”

Arthur stands up before he’s even fully aware of his actions. “If they are peaceful, how are they doing any harm?” He asks, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

Uther shifts his glare towards him. “No one who has magic is innocent, Arthur. You know this.” The Prince immediately thinks of Merlin and Morgana somewhere in the castle, and thinks that his father couldn’t be more wrong.

“On my various patrols of the kingdom, I have never been threatened by a druid before. They avoid interactions with us. They are no danger to our way of life.” Arthur says firmly. Uther’s glare darkens as his eyes flick over his son contemptuously.

“Magic is evil, Arthur. You have been taught this since you were born, or have all your lessons slipped out of your ears?” He snarls, making Arthur’s cheeks redden slightly. In anger or shame, the Prince isn’t sure. “It is obvious that the druids’ image of peace and prosperity is a ploy to try and lull us into a false sense of security with their existence. When we are the least prepared, they will strike. They will go for the very heart of Camelot itself. Tell me, Arthur, are you willing to gamble with the life of your precious husband?”

Arthur grits his teeth. His father was wrong. If Merlin and Morgana weren’t evil, then he could believe that the druids weren’t either. However, he couldn’t exactly tell his father that. He also couldn’t tell him why destroying the druids wouldn’t keep Merlin safe. If anything, it would put him in more danger.

Arthur takes a deep breath before, as calmly as possible, replying, “I am merely suggesting that we wait until an attack on them is provoked. Be defensive instead of being offensive. If they have not called for war, then we shouldn’t either.”

Uther’s eyed flash dangerously. “You are young, Arthur. To rule a kingdom, you cannot be defensive. You must move decisively, and strike first. Only then will your enemies respect you. Only then will you be able to keep your people safe. You have simply proven that you are not ready to handle the weight that comes with the crown.” He waves his son off dismissively.

Anger flares in Arthur’s chest. “Ruling with blood is not the only way to gain respect. That only gets you respect out of fear, not loyalty.”

“Respect is fear, Arthur.” His father sneers. “You will do good to learn that now.”

Arthur opens his mouth to retort, but closes it again upon seeing the threatening look on his father’s face. He sits back down heavily, heart pounding and blood racing. His hands are trembling slightly from the force with which he had clenched them into fists. His father nods approvingly at his son backing down.

“We must act swiftly against these druids. They must know the taste of our steel. It is the only way to protect our people. Arthur, you will lead the raid with a handful of your best men. I doubt we will get much resistance.” The King declares.

“No.” Arthur says, loud and clear.

“Excuse me?” Uther growls, glaring at his son again.

Arthur gets back to his feet. “I said no. If you want the blood of innocent people on your hands, lead the raid yourself. I refuse.”

A tense and heavy silence falls over the room as they await the King’s reply. Uther’s face is twisting and contorting with rage, the Prince staring back defiantly. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t going to back down. For Merlin, he would stand strong and sure in his conviction.

“Get out.” Uther says, low and threatening, finger pointing towards the door. “I will deal with your impudence later, but for now, I do not want you in my sight.”

Arthur nods, spinning on his heel, and leaving the room. His feet start towards his chambers, to _Merlin_ , but he stops himself. This was not a burden that Merlin should carry. To know that one’s kin was being hunted down with the intent to be slaughtered was not something that anyone should have to bear. Least of all someone as pure as Merlin. Arthur changes direction and leaves the castle instead, absently finding himself in the gardens.

He sits down heavily on one of the more secluded benches, and stares unseeingly ahead of him. He was in trouble. Not only had he defied a direct order from the King (with witnesses, no less), but he had defended those who had magic. That was all the cause his father needed to become suspicious. He very well may have just put Merlin and Morgana in grave danger. He takes a shaky breath and buries his head in his hands, elbows digging into his knees.

The sun has dipped close to the horizon when someone joins him. He doesn’t have to look up to know that it’s Merlin. Something inside him almost reaches out longingly to the man whenever he is nearby. The feeling is always soothing, and now is no different.

“I heard about what you did.” Merlin says quietly, calmly. “I’m proud of you, Arthur.”

Arthur inhales sharply and lifts his head. “I acted rashly, and very probably put both you and Morgana in danger.” He replies bitterly, unable to meet Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin gently envelopes one of Arthur’s hands with both of his. “You stood up for what you believe to be right. You refused to take part in the eradication of a group of people. You have proven what’s truly in your heart. Love, and peace, and acceptance.”

Arthur finally looks at him with watery eyes. “What if something happens to you because I rebelled against my father, the _King_. I could not bear it if he took you away from me.”

“I can take care of myself, Arthur.” Merlin says with a soft smile. “I might be rubbish with a sword, but I have other means to protect myself.”

Arthur let’s out a choked laugh. “I’ll have to change that.”

“I’m sure you’ll try.” Merlin hums. “Come, you’ve been out here for hours. When you still didn’t show up for dinner, I got worried about you.”

Merlin stands, and Arthur allows himself to get pulled up as well. Merlin settles a gentle hand on his cheek, thumb caressing his skin. His eyes are shining with something that Arthur might label as pride. He doesn’t really think he deserves it. The King will punish him for his rebellious words in the council chambers. Of that, he is certain. The one variable that is causing fear and worry to twist in his stomach like snakes, is _how_ he intends to punish Arthur. He had already implied that he knew that the best way to strike at Arthur was through Merlin. The King wouldn’t _actually_ hurt Merlin, though. Would he?

Arthur pulls Merlin into a desperate embrace, turning his head to bury his nose in Merlin’s dark locks. “I will always protect you, Merlin. I swear to it.” He breathes, voicing his promise so only the two of them hear it.

“I know.” Merlin replies. “And I will always protect you in turn.” Arthur closes his eyes, breathing shakily. After a moment, he manages to compose himself enough to pull away. He finds it too difficult to meet Merlin’s eyes, knowing the raw vulnerability that is no doubt summing in his own eyes. The two of them walk back into the castle, Arthur’s heart lodged firmly, and uneasily, in his throat.


	8. Chapter 8

“Do I _really_ have to do this?” Merlin whines as Arthur situates one of his older, and therefore smaller, chainmail tunics over Merlin’s lean frame. Arthur gives him an unimpressed look.

“I told you yesterday that I was going to teach you how to use a sword.” He replies, stepping back to survey his husband. He looks anything but happy.

“I thought you were joking.” Merlin argues.

Arthur rolls his eyes as he says, “Merlin, there’s nothing funny about learning to defend yourself. You may have magic, but you can’t exactly whip that out in the presence of anyone other than me or Morgana. Doesn’t do you much good, now does it?”

Merlin glares at him silently. He had been complaining bitterly about Arthur’s plan to train him to wield a sword ever since Arthur had suggested it lazily in bed that morning. Arthur really didn’t see what all the fuss was about. He had been practically begging his father for years to train with the knights before he was finally allowed. Really, Merlin should feel honoured. Except, that he really, really wasn’t.

“Do I really have to do this with all the other knights there? I’m going to make a complete fool of myself. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be working with them and not focusing only on me?” He asks. He seems to have a satisfied air about him, like he figured out a way around this whole ordeal. Arthur smirks victoriously because he _had_ in fact already thought of that.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Merlin.” He replies nonchalantly as he affixes a sword and belt around his husband’s waist. “Well, not entirely wrong. You are correct in assuming that I have other duties to the knights this morning.” Merlin looks endearingly hopeful. “But that is why _I_ will not be working with you. Not right away, anyway.”

Merlin gapes at him. “Excuse me?” He splutters, incredulous. “Then who will be?”

Arthur grins at Merlin’s scandalized expression. “Sir Leon will be.”

Merlin’s whole body slumps in defeat. “So, not only are you making me make a fool of myself, but you’re also adding in the fact that it’s going to be primarily in front of your best knight?” He asks.

“Merlin.” Arthur settles his hands on both of Merlin’s shoulders. “I chose Leon because he is a good man. He will not ridicule you for your inexperience, and he will be patient in teaching you the basics.” The Prince says, making an unspoken promise to Merlin that he will not stand for any abuse sent Merlin’s way.

Merlin looks up to meet his eyes, cracking a tiny grin. “So, better than you, then?” He jokes. Arthur snorts and shoves him back a step, reaching up to ruffle his hair. Merlin shoves his hand away, chuckling for a moment before growing serious. Arthur senses the shift in the atmosphere around them and sobers as well, quirking an eyebrow.

“I can tell this is important to you, Arthur, and I’ll try my best. I warn you though, I really wasn’t lying when I said I was rubbish with a sword.” Merlin says softly, easily reading into the real reason why Arthur wanted to do this. His father hadn’t made any great show of power against him yet for the previous day’s council meeting, and Arthur wanted both him and Merlin to be prepared should it ever actually come.

“The only way to get better, is to learn and practice.” Arthur replies, squeezing his shoulders once. “Now, we must go. We’re running late as it is.” Not that Arthur is complaining about how Merlin had tried to distract Arthur from dragging him down to the training ground with his lips and tongue firmly on the Prince’s.

When they finally get down to the field, and Merlin sees all the knights gathered there, he falters. Arthur senses it, more than sees it, and squeezes the hand currently clasped in his. Merlin shifts terrified eyes to him, and he chuckles lowly in his throat. Tugging him closer, he presses a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re going to be fine. I trust Leon with my life. I’ll make some time to take over for him at the end.”

Merlin nods uncertainly, hand slipping very reluctantly from Arthur’s as they approach the field and Leon moves to meet them. Arthur gives Merlin one last reassuring look before sharing a quick nod with his knight. He can hear Leon strike up conversation with his husband as he walks away toward the rest of his knights. He cracks a small smile, despite the worry still clinging stubbornly to his gut.

Over the next hour, Arthur works himself and the knights into a good sweat. He keeps half an eye on Merlin and Leon throughout. True to his word, Sir Leon has been patient and respectful. It seems that every time Arthur glances over fully, Merlin is on the ground. Leon is always there, hand outstretched to help pull him to his feet, mouth moving over words no doubt designed to encourage the darker haired man sulking on the ground. Arthur has to fight back his fond smile every time, forcing himself to focus back on his knights, who are always grinning cheekily at him once his attention returns to where it’s supposed to be.

It’s another few minutes before Arthur decides to relieve Leon. “I can take it from here, Leon. Go practice the drills with the others.” The Princes calls as he approaches. The knight nods, leaving the pair alone to go over what Merlin had hopefully learned. Arthur was grateful to the man, though he felt a little guilty about taking him away from his own training, even if the drills they did today Leon could do in his sleep.

“Are we done now?” Merlin asks hopefully. Arthur smiles at him, but shakes his head. Merlin groans pitifully.

“Not quite yet. I want you to show me what you’ve learned.” Arthur replies, already getting into an easy fighting stance. Merlin copies him to the best of his abilities. Arthur runs then through a few basic drills, and is suitably impressed at the work that both Merlin put into leaning, and Leon put into teaching. Poor Merlin does still end up flat on his back, Arthur’s sword tip hovering above his chest. The Prince is smirking openly.

Merlin bats the sword away, accepting Arthur’s hand to haul himself up. Arthur tugs a little harder then necessary, pulling Merlin in close to press their lips together quickly. They pull away, blushing, to wolf-whistles from the knights.

“Not bad for your first day, Merlin.” The Prince praises, making Merlin smile and duck his head as he blushes slightly. Arthur hooks an arm around his waist and starts to lead them back to the castle, the knights moving off to the armoury behind them. Arthur jolts them to a halt as his father appears at the top of the steps ahead of them. Merlin presses in close to his side as he eyes his father warily.

Uther almost looks bored as he says, “Arthur, I wish to speak with you in my chambers. Alone.” Arthur swallows, but nods obediently, shooting Merlin a quick looks to see if he’s okay with Arthur’s servant, and therefore his, attending to him. Merlin nods, a small bob of his head, and Arthur let’s his arm slip away.

“Yes, Father.” Arthur says. He climbs the steps, following after the King as he turns and leads them back into the citadel itself. The two of them are silent as they make their way through the suddenly cold halls. Each step feels like Arthur is taking one step closer to his doom.

Once inside, and the door is closed, Uther gestures to his table. “Sit.” He orders. Arthur obeys. “Now, I want an explanation for yesterday’s events.” He continues, spinning to face Arthur, hands leaning on the table top so he looms over his son.

Arthur scrambles for a plausible lie. “Maybe I’m just old enough to make my own opinions on matters.” He says, suddenly not feeling as confident as he had the day before, with witnesses.

Uther scoffs. “You are young and foolish, Arthur, if you see anything _good_ about magic.”

Arthur purses his lips, forcing himself to meet his father’s still angry eyes. “I just don’t see why we must wipe out an entire people who have never once wished us any harm. What wrong have they truly done?” He asks, but there’s a slight quiver to his voice.

Uther pushes off the table to stand at his full height. “Have you forgotten everything I’ve taught you?” The King asks in frustration. “You have never questioned my thoughts on the matter before, why now?” He demands.

Arthur feels himself pale. He cannot let his father start to question about Merlin. It’s too dangerous. He’s left floundering in his head, coming up empty. Panic is starting to grip his chest as Uther studies him intently. He has nothing. Nothing to say to direct attention away from the only thing in his life that has changed recently. Uther cocks his head.

“I think I know what’s happening here.” He says. His voice isn’t giving away anything about what he’s thinking, and it’s nearly killing his son. “Your recent marriage has shown you how much life can change. You want to prove to him that you are your own person. That is understandable, but also dangerous.”

Arthur stares blankly at him, too scared to even really breathe. Eventually, he nods, managing to choke out a, “Yes. That’s it.”

Uther’s face hardens. “I expect you to follow the orders you have been given. You _will_ lead the attack on the druid camp. You will leave as soon as you and your men are organized and ready to ride. I _will not_ tolerate any more debate on the subject. I am still your King, and you are still to obey me.”

Arthur’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Yes, Father.” He says reluctantly. The words feel like a punch to the gut. Uther nods, pushing away from his spot and turning away. Arthur takes that as a silent dismissal, and gets to his feet. He’s at the door when his father’s voice stops him.

“Arthur, if you defy me again, I will not go so easy on you. The punishments for everyone involved in your insolence will be very severe.” The threat in the King’s voice is clear. If Arthur is to rebel against his father again, Merlin will be the target of whatever punishment he would receive. Arthur nods and slips out the door. He had to find Merlin and Morgana.

He finds the both of them in Morgana’s chambers. They both seem to pick up on his panic the moment he crashes through the doors. Merlin is on his feet and approaching him instantly, Morgana not far behind. He looks between them, trying to calm his breathing enough to explain to them what has happened.

“Arthur, Merlin told me that Uther wanted to talk to you. Clearly it wasn’t good. What happened?” Morgana says, reaching out to grip the shoulder that Merlin isn’t attached to already.

“Does he suspect anything?” Merlin asks, trying to sound strong, but the fear lacing his tone still manages to bleed through.

“No.” Arthur mumbles. “Not yet, anyway, but we have to be careful.” Merlin and Morgana share an uneasy look.

“Arthur?” Morgana urges.

“The druid camp. He expects me to lead the raid. There is to be no more arguments over it, or he’ll punish me through Merlin.” The man in question pales considerably. “I’m not going to let that happen.” The Prince assures him.

Morgana lets her hand slip away, pacing a few steps away before turning back. “Damn him!” She curses. “What are you going to do? You cannot go out there and slaughter an entire group of innocent people!” She cries, eyes flashing dangerously in a way that reminds Arthur very strongly of the king.

“I know that, Morgana, but what choice do I have? My hands are tied here.” He replies desperately.

Morgana curses under her breath, pacing her room again. “I’m sure that if you refuse, we can protect Merlin. Between the three of us, we can keep him out of harm’s way.” She rages.

Arthur frowns, not liking how cavalier she was being with Merlin’s life. “To what end, Morgana? Either you and he use magic, and get sentenced to death for sorcery, or you don’t, and the King’s punishment gets inevitably more severe due to what he views as more impudence.” He argues back. Morgana huffs, turning away from him abruptly. He turns to look at Merlin, who has been unusually silent thus far. Morgana seems to sense his change of attention, and turns back to look as Merlin as well.

“Merlin?” She asks. Merlin glances at her quickly before letting his eyes skitter away.

“Merlin?” Arthur repeats, softer than his sister’s abrupt tone. “What are you thinking?” He adds with a squeeze to Merlin’s elbow.

“What if we warn them?” He finally suggests slowly. “That way you can still lead the raid as your father has ordered, but there will be no one there to get hurt.”

Arthur opens his mouth to tell Merlin that, that would never work, but stops as he thinks it over again. If they could get a warning to the druids, without his father getting word of it, then they just might be able to get away in time. Whether they would trust such a warning was uncertain, but it was worth a try.

“That just might work.” He says, eyes lighting up with hope. “We just have to figure out a way to make a convincing enough argument to get them to leave, and a way to get it to them in time. I can delay the departure for up to a day at most, but my father will get suspicious if I push it even that long.”

Merlin purses his lips and meets Arthur’s eyes. He recognizes the look lurking in that endless blue. He isn’t going to like what his husband has to say. Merlin seems to know that Arthur already suspects bad news, and glances at Morgana for back-up.

“I can do it. My magic will help me track them, and they’ll listen to me.” He says. And yep, Arthur didn’t like it.

He shakes his head. “No, Merlin. It’s too dangerous. You can barely wield a sword, and even out on your own, the risks of using magic to protect yourself are too high.”

Morgana steps up beside Merlin, facing against Arthur. “Thank about it. If you, or even I, were to leave to warn them, Uther would notice. He’d have much less cause too notice Merlin’s absence. Gaius is quite fond of him. I’m sure he could help us make up a story about Merlin being ill should the King ask.”

Arthur still shakes his head. “No. How do we even know they’d listen? You’re married to a Pendragon, after all.”

“Arthur, they’ll listen. I have magic, I’m one of their own, and _you’re_ the Pendragon I’m married to. They’ll listen. You just have to trust me.” Merlin says, voice hinging on almost desperation. Arthur knows the feeling. They really don’t have a lot of time. He looks from first one determined face to the other. They looked uncannily similar right now, with their fair skin, dark hair, and matching defiant eyes.

“Fine!” Arthur cries, throwing his hands up in defeat, his tone suggesting it was anything _but_ fine. “You stay out of trouble, you hear me?” He says, pointing at Merlin. “If you go and get yourself killed, I’m bringing you back so I can kill you myself.”

Merlin smiles weakly. “I can do this, Arthur. Don’t worry.”

Arthur huffs in exasperation. “I will always worry about you. That statement is as useful as telling me not to breath.” He grouses. “Now come on, we need to come up with at least _some_ kind of plan. I’m not sending my husband out there all alone to just wing it.” The other two dutifully follow him to Morgana’s table, pushing aside the parchment currently there to lay out a map of the area. Arthur had a very bad feeling about this.


	9. Chapter 9

This is insane, and Arthur cannot believe that he’s actually going along with it. He never even thinks twice when throwing himself into harm’s way, but to allow Merlin to do the same? At least Arthur was a trained knight. He could handle a sword and fight off threats almost with his eyes closed. Merlin couldn’t. Letting him go off on his own, in the _dark_ , was probably the dumbest thing he has ever done.

After formulating a plan the day before, the three of them had retired early. Their best chance at success, and not being caught, was if Merlin left shortly before dawn. The Prince had gotten barely any sleep. He had laid awake, worrying, until he could physically no longer keep his eyes open, and a fitful sleep had claimed him. It had been only a few short hours later that Merlin had shaken him awake. The two of them had gotten out of bed in tense silence, dressing themselves as quickly and efficiently as possible. From there, they had stealthily slipped through the castle halls and down to the stables to meet Morgana.

“Is all in readiness?” Morgana asks as they pass through the stable doors. Arthur and Merlin share a look.

“Yes.” Merlin replies, putting as much confidence as he can into the one word. At Morgana’s nod, they all team together to prepare Merlin’s horse, checking it’s hooves for loose stones and tacking it up quickly. As Arthur is doing the few finishing touches, Morgana prepares to leave.

“You’ll know once I’ve distracted the guards.” She says in a hushed tone. “From there, you’ll only have a few minutes at best. You must hurry.” Morgana pulls Merlin into a hug, wishing him luck, before creeping back out into the darkness outside.

Merlin turns to Arthur as the Prince comes up to his side. “I’m going to be okay, Arthur.” He promises. Arthur gives him a taut smile.

“You better be.” He murmurs, pulling his husband into a fierce hug. “You stay safe out there. I really do _hate_ letting you go out there alone. It doesn’t feel right.”

Merlin pulls back just enough to see Arthur’s face. “Everything is going to be fine. It’ll all go to plan, and I’ll see you soon. I did survive for my whole life before meeting you, you know.” He says, trying to get Arthur to smile. It only half works.

“Yeah, well, you weren’t openly committing treason before.” Arthur grumbles. He’s trying so hard not to show Merlin just how scared for him that he actually is.

“Arthur,” Merlin laughs softly, “I’ve been committing treason since I was born.” He points out. This comment does earn him a small huff of laughter. There’s a sudden _bang_ and a yell outside, and Arthur knows. This is it. It’s time for Merlin to go. He panics for a second, loosening his arms from around Merlin’s waist to instead grip his face.

“Merlin, I... in case this is the last time I see you, I need you to know that I love you.” He rushes out. Merlin stares at him in, possibly, shock before pulling him into the most passionate kiss that Arthur has ever felt. His mind is spinning as they break apart.

“I love you, too.” Merlin breathes, then he’s swinging up onto his horse’s back. “This is not the last time we’ll see each other, Arthur. Have faith.” Arthur nods weakly, pulling the stable doors open for Merlin to leave. He gets one last smile from his husband before Merlin kicks his horse’s sides, and they bolt out into the night. Arthur follows them out, watching until Merlin’s out of sight before pulling the doors closed again. He moves off to the side of the stables to wait for Morgana.

His eyes are once again trained on where he last saw Merlin, so he misses Morgana coming up beside him. He jumps violently as her hand lands on his shoulder. She’s giving him a sympathetic look as he swings his gaze over to see her.

“He’s going to be fine, Arthur. If all goes well, he’ll be back in Camelot before you even leave.” She says quietly. Arthur just nods numbly. “Let’s go. We can’t be caught out here.”

Morgana latches onto Arthur’s wrist, pulling him back toward the castle. He half expects her to lead him to his chambers, but is surprisingly grateful when she makes her way through the castle to her’s instead. He gives her a small smile as they step inside. She had lit a fire in her room before leaving, so there’s a warmth to the air that matches the orange glow from the flames. When he turns back to face her, he finds her looking nervous.

“What is it, ‘Gana?” He asks, keeping his voice low, despite them being out of danger now.

She chews her lip for another second before saying, “I know this is atrocious timing, what with Merlin just leaving and the stress of the upcoming raid, but there’s something I’ve been keeping from you for the last little while, and you deserve to know it. Since we’re both here now, alone, it might just be the only time to tell you for some time.” She rambles, quickly cutting herself off to take a deep breath.

Arthur resists the urge to pinch his nose in frustration. How many life-altering revelations did one person really need in their life? With a sigh, he lifts weary eyes to meet hers. “Out with it, Morgana. You’re right, in that this is bad timing, but lately, when has there ever been _good_ timing for anything?”

Morgana nods and takes another deep breath. “Shortly after Merlin arrived, maybe the next day, I was going to see Gaius about my sleeping draught. It’s not working as well as it used to.” She says. Arthur nods because he knows this. “I was almost there when I noticed that his door was cracked open slightly. I could hear voices inside, so I knew he was busy. I was about to turn and leave, to go back later, when I recognized Uther’s voice.”

She stops there, and Arthur frowns. “What is so special about my father speaking with the Court Physician?” He asks in confusion.

“It wasn’t that they were talking, Arthur, it was what they were talking about.” She replies. Arthur lifts his eyebrows, telling her to go on. “They were talking about you and Merlin, naturally, and how relieved Uther was that you were so enamoured with the boy already.” Arthur blushes red.

“I was not. It had only been a day.” He grumbles, knowing that he isn’t _exactly_ telling the truth, he’s just trying to save some of his pride. Maybe.

Morgana gives him a _look_. “Arthur, everyone in the castle could tell you were head over heels for him in about twenty minutes. Now, stop interrupting me.” Arthur glares, but does as he’s told. “Thank you. Anyway, your father was glad that you and Merlin were going to work out, because he had been worried about us, despite his warnings when I first came to stay. We had been getting close, and spending plenty of time together, and he feared maybe we were secretly together.”

Arthur scrunches up his face at the thought. “You’re like my sister, ‘Gana. I would never, it would feel wrong!” He can’t help but blurt out. To his surprise, Morgana pales a bit.

“That’s just it, Arthur.” She says, sounding stressed. “After the conversation I overheard, I went to the library and did some research. It was almost impossible to find, but before you were born, your father had an affair. Out of this coupling, a child was born, a baby girl. An illegitimate daughter. Me.”

“You.” He breathes, dumbfounded. “So all this time, I’ve called you my sister, and you actually have been. Without either of us knowing?”

Morgana takes a tentative step forward. “Half-sister. Yes.” She says.

Arthur wordlessly sinks down into a chair at the table, burying his hands in his hair. His brain has practically short-circuited by this point. He had a half-sister. His father had been unfaithful to his mother. The same mother who had died in childbirth. The same mother whom Uther refused to talk about because losing his Queen hurt too much to bring up. Apparently, he had just felt guilty.

“Trust me, Arthur, I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard it, but you were getting to know Merlin, and then there was everything with our magic, and you just had so much on your plate already, I didn’t want to add to it.” She rushes out in an anguished tone.

Arthur shakes his head slightly. “Morgana, stop. I am not angry with you.” He says quietly. “I understand why you never told me. It actually helps a few things make more sense. I always wondered why Father was so adamant that we not court each other.”

Morgana lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Can you imagine?” She asks. Arthur cracks a half smile, finally lifting his head back up to look at her. His smile falls as her words truly take hold, however.

“If you are the King’s daughter, then don’t you technically have just as much a claim to the throne as I do?” He asks. He had never given his future much thought. From birth he had been groomed as Prince, rightful heir to the throne. He had never even thought that, that right might be challenged one day.

Morgana actually scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur.” She brushes him off. “I have no desire to be Queen. I know you are a better man than our father. I know you will put an end to this atrocious hate that he has created around magic.” Her face softens. “But you also have a good heart. Especially with Merlin by your side, you will do amazing things for the kingdom. I have no desire to get in the way of that.”

Arthur stares at her. “Really? You always struck me as someone who would love power.”

She gives him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I most definitely am. Make me your Court Sorceress, and we’ll call it even.” She laughs. She almost sounds relieved. Arthur knows the feeling. She grows serious again as she softly says, “Arthur, I am your sister by blood, and I will stand by your side as you become a grand king. I will not betray you, you can trust me.”

Arthur is moving before he’s even thinking about it, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you, ‘Gana. Your support means so much to me.”

Morgana hugs him back readily. “You’ll always have my support, Arthur. You accepted me for who I am, despite what our father has told you about magic since you were old enough to understand. For that, I will always be grateful.”

They stay in Morgana’s chambers until the dawn light starts peeking through the crack in the curtains. With one last hug, Arthur ducks out of her chambers and heads back to his. They feel cold with the knowledge that Merlin is long gone from the city. Arthur tries not to think about whether or not he is in danger. He can only hope and pray that he stays safe, and the druids believe him and leave the kingdom.

He paces the floor of his chambers anxiously, waiting until the sun his risen high enough to gather the knights. His father was right in that he would not need many men. Even if the druids did not heed Merlin’s warning, a few men could... He shudders and diverts his thoughts elsewhere. When the time eventually comes, he summons William.

“Yes, my Lord?” His servant asks.

“I need you to send a summons to Sirs Leon, Kay, Bedivere, Elymere, and Dothrim. They are to meet me in the council chambers at once.” He says, passing William five different slips of parchment. The man bows respectfully, and leaves the room.

Arthur follows not far behind, the few maps he needs tucked under one arm. When he gets to the council chambers, he nearly stumbles and drops them. Standing at the head of the table is his father.

“Father, I wasn’t expecting you here.” He says, trying to calm the beating of his heart.

Uther smiles, but it doesn’t look welcoming or happy. “When sorcery is involved, then I too shall be involved.” The King replies. Arthur understands the unspoken answer. Arthur had appeared weak and sympathetic with the druids before, so he was here to make sure that the knights fully understood the objective of their quest. Arthur hadn’t been counting on this. How could he possibly delay their departure now?

The doors open and the knights file in just as Arthur is smoothing out the map. A chorus of _‘Sire’_ s sounds out throughout the group as they situate themselves around the table. Arthur has to take a calming breath before he can start talking.

“You have been summoned here because you have been chosen to follow me in a raid on a druid camp rumoured to be found here.” Arthur says, pointing at a spot on the map. “The druids are a nomadic people, so they may have moved on, but with such a high number of people, they won’t have gone far, and they should be easy to track.”

It’s Sir Dothrim that asks, “What is the objective of this raid?”

Arthur swallows before meeting his eyes. “To destroy everything.” He says simply, catching his father nodding out of the corner of his eye. He drags his finger along a route from the castle to where the camp was spotted. “If we follow this route here, it’ll be the fastest and the safest way.”

“My Lord, it’ll be faster if we cut though here.” Sir Elymere says, pointing out the path. “It’ll cut at least an hour or two off the journey.”

Arthur nods. “I had thought of that, but the terrain can be iffy at best this time of year. We would be risking injury to the horses. The route I’ve picked has the best chance at getting us to the druid camp with no issues along the way.”

“How long do we prepare to be away for?” Sir Leon pipes up.

Arthur has to force himself to meet his knight’s eyes. He already feels so damn guilty when he replies, “I’m hoping the whole process won’t take more than a day, but prepare for a few, just in case.”

Uther steps forward, drawing all the attention in the room onto him. “Make sure you have enough supplies to last in case you need to track down any individuals who may run.” He says savagely. He’s taking altogether too much pleasure out of such a bloody business. Arthur just wants to scream at him. Hell, he can barely _look_ at him right now after his conversation with Morgana earlier.

“When do we leave, Sire?” Sir Kay asks. This is the only chance Arthur has to try to delay their leaving.

“First thing tomorrow. That gives us time to get things ready.” Arthur replies, crossing his fingers mentally.

“No.” Uther says, and Arthur nearly deflates. “That will only give them ample chance to escape. I want you to ride as soon as possible. You have two hours to get everything in order. You are to leave immediately then.”

The knights nod, bowing to the king before leaving. Arthur rolls the map back up, heart in his throat. Two hours doesn’t give Merlin a lot of time. In fact, it probably gives him barely any at all. If Merlin gets caught warning the druids, he will be executed. Arthur will do everything in his power to keep that from happening. However, as only Prince, he doesn’t really know how far his power extends.

“Arthur.” His father says, drawing him from his thoughts. “I understand this is weighing heavily on you. I know that some decisions can be much harder than others. I am merely trying to prepare you for what it will be like once you are king. To rule a kingdom, to keep peace and prosperity for you people, it is sometimes necessary to get your hands dirty.”

Gone is the hard and threatening tone from before. The man standing before him now is the same one who, after being told that Arthur would rather marry a man, had replied with, _‘Very well.’_ This was the King, _the father,_ that Arthur was used to. He was trying to teach Arthur a lesson. That not all battles can be won with words or mercy. Sometimes blood had to be spilled. Arthur understood that, and in a way, he appreciated his father trying to pass on his hard earned wisdom. But this particular battle was one that Arthur would never forgive him for.


	10. Chapter 10

Morgana is there, two hours later, to see him off. She looks as worried as he feels. Clearly she, too, is thinking about Merlin, and what will happen to all three of them should he be caught. Arthur is trying his best _not_ to think about those particular consequences. They make his chest seize up with fear, making it hard to breathe. There is a very high chance that they will run into Merlin on their way to the druid camp. He can only hope that they can think of a convincing enough lie for the knights, should their paths cross.

“Good luck, Arthur.” His sister murmurs as he prepares to mount his horse. “Whatever happens out there, just... bring Merlin home safe. I’ve gotten rather fond of him.”

Arthur cracks a small smile. “I have every intention of ensuring Merlin’s safe return. You are definitely not the only one who likes having him around. He replies. Llamrei prances underneath him as he settles in the saddle, picking up easily on the nervous energy pouring off of him in waves. He gently strokes her neck, cooing at her soothingly. An unfortunate habit he seems to have picked up from Merlin.

“Arthur.” His father’s commanding voice booms out through the courtyard. Arthur looks up from his mare to meet his gaze. “I trust you will not fail.”

Arthur fights back his grimace as he nods. “Of course not, Father.” He promises, the words settling like ash on his tongue. Morgana looks ill beside him, and they share a concerned look. Even if the druids have moved on, Arthur will have to make a convincing enough search, so if the King questions the knights they can, and will, confirm that Arthur did all that he could.

Uther nods approvingly. “Good. I expect a full report to the council upon your return. Now go.” The King says, waving them all off with a vague hand gesture. Arthur nods, and with one last look shared with Morgana, leads the knights out of the courtyard. The citizens of the Lower Town watch curiously as Arthur and his men ride through. Apparently, the news of their departure had spread. Arthur makes sure to smile at the children who watch him with sheer awe as he rides by.

Once free of the city itself, Arthur picks up the pace. Llamrei tugs at the bit in her mouth, wanting her head free so she can go faster, but Arthur keeps a tight hold on the reins, forcing her to maintain a steady and slow canter. He may have had no say in when they left, but he might be able to keep their pace slightly slower without raising suspicions amongst the knights.

Once Llamrei stops fighting to go faster, finally settling her mouth, he slows the pace further to a steady trot. The knights do the same around him, none of them asking any questions. The day is already quite warm. Arthur’s sweating under his chainmail and armour, wishing desperately that he hadn’t needed to wear it. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Sire.” Sir Leon’s voice beside him suddenly breaks Arthur out of his thoughts. “May I ask you something?”

Arthur lifts his eyebrows in surprise. He and Leon has known each other longer than any of the other knights. He had thought that they were past Leon asking in advance if he could pose any questions to the Prince. The fact that he had, meant one of two things. Either he wanted to remain respectful in front of the other knights, or whatever he was about to ask was potentially a sensitive topic.

“Of course, Leon.” He says, trying to keep his tone as open and friendly as possible.

The knight nods, pausing for a moment before saying, “I couldn’t help but notice how reluctant you have been about what we are doing. Does this, perhaps, have anything to do with Merlin?”

The question makes Arthur’s attention snap around to the knight fully. Did Leon _know_ about Merlin? About even Morgana? Did he know about what the three of them had done? Was all of this about to come tumbling down before it even really started? “Merlin?”

Leon nods. “Yes, my Lord. I couldn’t help but notice that Merlin is a very soft and kind hearted soul. I thought that maybe you were so hesitant to undertake this quest because you did not want to alienate him with blood and violence.” The knight states simply. Arthur nearly faints with relief. _Leon didn’t know._

Arthur takes a moment to think over an appropriate answer. “Merlin has been made aware what ruling a kingdom entails. He knows what he has in store for him in our joined future. But you are right. He has a loving nature, and does shy away from violence when possible. Perhaps, subconsciously, that is why I drug my feet at first. Even still, actually.”

Leon nods again, thoughtfully. “Merlin is a good man, Sire. He is understanding. I do not think you need to worry about pushing him away because you are following your King’s orders. Perhaps when you take the throne, things will be different.” He muses.

Arthur stares at Leon in surprise. In all his time spent with the man, never once had he heard Leon ever say anything that sounded like doubt. He had always seemed loyal to the throne, following orders without question. Yet here he was, telling Arthur that maybe he didn’t agree with what they were doing. Not in so many words, but the implication was there, loud and clear. For the first time since being informed of this raid, Arthur feels a spark of hope.

“You have doubts about this quest as well, Sir Leon?” Arthur asks, needing to know for sure. He needed to know if Merlin was safe with Leon.

Leon wrinkles his nose slightly, for a brief moment, before shrugging. “I have my doubts about the morals of attacking peaceful people. I became a knight to uphold honour, to protect those who could not protect themselves. I can’t help feeling that this goes against the Knight’s Code.” He says slowly, almost testing the words out on his tongue before speaking them.

Arthur is touched by the amount of trust the man is putting in him at the moment. He is speaking the truth, that much Arthur can tell, and he is doing so without any fear that Arthur will turn him in to his father. He is showing the loyalty and allegiance that he holds for the Prince of Camelot, and Arthur is nearly overwhelmed. He may have been the one who had stepped up primarily to work with the knights, to train and lead them, but he had always known that they were not his men. They belonged to his father. To suddenly be informed otherwise, at least in Leon’s case, brought up feelings that Arthur didn’t really know what to do with.

Arthur starts to reply, but stops when he hears the familiar sound of a branch snapping in the trees up ahead. He holds up a hand, signalling his men to stop as he pulls Llamrei up. He slowly unsheathes his sword from where it’s resting against the mare’s shoulder, pulling it out as quietly as possible. The knights do the same, riding carefully forward until they are better covering the Prince’s back and sides. Another _snap_ rings out through the trees, followed by a steady set of hoofbeats. Someone was approaching them. Slowly, but coming their way all the same.

Arthur tenses, ready for a fight as he peers though the surrounding trees. He relaxes, albeit only slightly, as a familiar figure appears between two large tree trunks. _Merlin_. It’s Sir Leon, beside him, that speaks up first.

“Merlin? What are you doing out here by yourself?” He asks, clearly confused. The knight gives Arthur a look as Merlin briefly glances in the Prince’s direction. Even from here, Arthur can see the panic in his husband’s eyes. However, the man blinks and it’s gone.

“Collecting herbs for Gaius.” He replies steadily, and Arthur is impressed with the ease in which the lie tumbles out of his mouth.

It’s Sir Elymere who asks, “Why would _you_ be collecting herbs for Gaius?”

Once again Merlin glances briefly at Arthur before answering, “He was going to do it himself, but I volunteered to do it for him. I spent a lot of time outdoors with my mother, learning about various herbs and flowers. I’m more than capable of recognizing the plants he needs. Besides, it got me out of the castle for a bit. Gave me something to do.” He shrugs, looking confident in his story.

“I was wondering where you had gotten off to.” Sir Bedivere says with a cheeky look sent Arthur’s way. “We didn’t have to suffer through a goodbye between the newlyweds. I got a little suspicious.” Arthur blushes as the other knights, Leon included, laugh and agree good-naturedly. Even Merlin grins, the traitor.

“Did you find any?” Arthur asks, steadfastly ignoring Sir Bedivere’s comment. It was a matter of pride. “Herbs?” He adds on unnecessarily. Merlin meets his eyes and shakes his head _‘no’_. Arthur’s heartbeat sky rockets. Either Merlin found the druids and they hadn’t listened, or he hadn’t had enough time to locate them before the Prince and the knights showed up to interrupt his search.

“Unfortunately, no.” Merlin replies. “Seems some of these herbs are rather hard to find.”

Arthur chews on his lip. “Well, you had better continue on with us.” He says. “I never did like the idea of you being out here alone. You’ll be safer with us, and we can help keep an eye out for anything you need.”

“I don’t know anything about plants.” Sir Kay pipes up. Merlin cracks a smile as he looks over at the knight.

“That’s fine. I’m sure I’ll manage looking myself. I would enjoy the company though.” All the knights nod agreeably. Thankfully, Merlin was well liked throughout the whole castle. Now all Arthur had to do was figure out how to ask Merlin what happened without the knights overhearing.

Arthur nudges his mare’s sides, approaching his husband. His knights follow behind them, but he noticed that they keep a short distance away, no doubt trying to give the couple as much space as possible. Arthur refuses to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. As Merlin falls into step beside him, Arthur notices how sweaty his mount is. Clearly they had been riding hard and fast.

“What happened?” He asks quietly, keeping his eyes ahead of them. Still, he sees Merlin shrug slightly out of the corner of his eye.

“They weren’t there anymore. They definitely had been, I could feel the lingering presence of magic, but they had moved on. I tried to follow them, but I lost the trail. They covered their tracks so no one could track them. Not even those with magic.” Merlin replies softly, sounding confused and worried.

Arthur hums. “Well, I guess that’s good news for us, then. We can’t destroy a camp that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Merlin shifts uneasily in his saddle, chewing nervously on his lower lip. Arthur gets the distinct feeling that something had happened out here. Most likely something that Arthur was not going to like. Why did this keep happening to him lately? Who had he angered so badly as to receive such rotten luck? When Merlin still refuses to say anything, Arthur groans.

“Spit it out, Merlin. I can see it clear as day on your face that you’re not telling me something.” He says firmly, leaving no room in his tone of voice for debate.

“When I was at the area where the druid camp had been, I... I wasn’t alone.” He replies haltingly.

Arthur snaps his eyes over to him. “What do you mean, you weren’t alone? You just said that the druids had moved on.” Arthur hisses quietly, not wanting to draw the unwanted attention of the knights behind them.

“The druids weren’t there.” Merlin replies uneasily. “It was someone else. A lookout of some sort. Maybe for a band of mercenaries? Or knights from another kingdom?”

Arthur frowns, definitely worried now. “Why would there be a lookout at an old druid camp?” He wonders out loud.

Merlin shrugs. “I have no idea. The only thing I could think of, was that they somehow knew about the druids, knew how the king would react, that he would send you out to deal with them, and were waiting for you to come.”

Arthur blinks. “An ambush?”

Merlin nods solemnly. “It would make sense. Especially if they knew that you would probably only bring a handful of men with you. It would provide a perfect opportunity to strike out at Camelot.”

This was worrying news, indeed. Arthur looks back forwards at the path ahead, and thinks over what he’s heard. They could very likely be walking into a trap. The only reason they weren’t was because Merlin had seen at least one of them. Arthur’s blood runs cold as he realizes that if Merlin saw them, they could have very easily seen him, too.

“Merlin,” he says, laying a hand on Merlin’s elbow, “did they see you at all?” He stresses.

Merlin eyes flash guiltily for a second. “Maybe for a moment. I did lose them in the trees, though, going the opposite direction from Camelot.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you lost them?” Arthur presses, the hairs on his neck standing on end.

Merlin scrunches his face up in thought. “I’m pretty sure?”

Arthur groans. “Not very reassuring, but we’ll have to work with it.”

“Sorry.” Merlin winces. “Should we tell the others?” He asks. Arthur feels panic nip at his chest at the thought.

“And how exactly do we explain the whole situation to them? If they find out what we did, they’ll tell the King. As much as I’d like it to be different, they’re loyal to my father, to the King, not to me.” Arthur replies. He really _should_ tell them, so they are prepared for a possible incoming attack, but how could he do that and keep Merlin safe at the same time? The indecision weighs on him; his protectiveness for Merlin warring with the guilt of not telling his men. The only one he felt he could trust completely was Leon.

Merlin’s voice pulls him from his head as he says, “I think they deserve more credit than you give them. You’re a good man, Arthur. All the knights, _your_ knights, can see that. They respect it.”

Arthur gives him a small smile. “Maybe you’re right.” He muses. Leon couldn’t be the only one with doubts.

Merlin gives him a cheeky grin. “Of course I’m right.” Arthur huffs a laugh, and playfully shoves his shoulder. He hears one of the knights say something about _‘incessant flirting’_ behind him, and he twists around to glare. At that exact moment, there’s another _snap_ off in the trees.

Arthur swings back around to sit properly in his saddle. He pulls Llamrei back to a halt, the knights moving back up to cover Arthur and Merlin’s vulnerable spots. As a group, they unsheathe their swords. They wait with bated breath, seven pairs of eyes scanning the trees surrounding them. Arthur shares a worried look with Leon beside him.

A chorus of yells erupt around them, making Merlin flinch beside Arthur. Men start pouring out of the trees, too many to count properly with all the movement. Time almost seems to slow down as Arthur watches the men approach. He turns to look at Merlin, sees his husband’s wide eyes, sees him mouth the words, _‘I’m sorry.’_ Then everything seems to whip into fast forward until everything catches up. The knights are already locking blades with mercenaries as they reach the group. Arthur manoeuvres Llamrei further in front of Merlin, better blocking him from the battle, and lifts his sword to parry a blow. So, apparently, Merlin had been right.


	11. Chapter 11

There were too many of them, and for some reason, none of Arthur’s or the knights’ swings were landing blows. Well aimed swipes always came up short, perfectly timed jabs missed by an inch. There was something else at work here. A cry sounds behind Arthur, momentarily distracting him. It’s just a long enough window of opportunity for one of the mercenaries to grip his arm and roughly pull him from Llmarei’s back.

“Arthur!” He hears Merlin shout as the world tips upside down. He lands hard on his back, reorienting his brain just in time to roll out of the way of the sword plunging down toward his chest. He glances to his right just in time to see Llamrei rear up on her hind legs, her front hooves pawing the air above his head. His eyes widen in panic for a moment before he rolls back, colliding with the mercenary hard enough to send the man sprawling backwards.

“Sire!” A hand on his bicep is helping pull him to his feet. Arthur looks up to see Sir Dothrim, eyes elsewhere as his sword hand parries another strike aimed their way.

Once Arthur is once again on his feet, he heaves, “Thanks.” His knight nods before letting go and turning fully back to the fight. All around him, his knights are on their own two feet, locked in battle with a couple mercenaries each. The horses are long gone. _And where was Merlin?_

Arthur doesn’t get a chance to look further, as he suddenly has to duck as a sword _zings_ through the air toward his neck. He curses as he drops to his knees, swinging out his own blade to catch the man’s knees. Again, he ends up just swinging a little too far away to make contact. He viciously curses again. What was happening?

Sir Elymere shouts and goes down a gash running down the length of his forearm. His sword falls to the dirt beside him. Arthur scrambles over to him, parrying the blow meant to take the knight’s head off. He lunges forward, nearly making contact, but manages to at least drive the mercenary back a few steps.

“Man down!” Arthur shouts, voice commanding. “Cover Sir Elymere!” The other knights shift their feet until they’re all roughly surrounding their injured comrade. Arthur takes a moment to scan through the men jostling around them. _Seriously, where the hell was Merlin?_

Someone stumbles into his left side, nearly knocking him over. He glances beside him, and sees Sir Bedivere still fighting, but grimacing as blood runs from a wound on his side. A quick glance around them shows Arthur that none of his men are fairing any better. While they can’t seem to hit their mark, the mercenaries can’t seem to miss. The only saving grace right now is that the knights are well trained enough that they’re avoiding all fatal blows. That luck can only hold out for so long.

Arthur lifts his sword to block a blow coming from above, and another mercenary ducks in to swipe at his exposed stomach. The tip of the blade catches at his chainmail even as he steps backward. Unfortunately, he trips over Sir Elymere’s outstretched legs and he goes sprawling to the ground. He lands hard, pain shooting up his spine at the impact. He winces as he struggles to his feet. As he finally straightens up, the air around them seems to sizzle with energy.

“Enough!” A voice rings out throughout the trees, booming and authoritative. It reverberates around then, seeming to shake the very ground under their feet. Arthur looks around with wide eyes, finally catching sight of Merlin.

His husband is standing up on a little swell in the ground, not too far off to Arthur’s right. The air around him almost seems to shimmer, as his fingers look to be sparking at the tips. His eyes are glowing a deep, molten gold. His features are set in a hard look, and if Arthur didn’t trust Merlin with his life, he would probability be afraid of him right now. There was a feral aura surrounding him.

“I can feel you here, and you will leave these men alone.” He continues, his voice about two octaves deeper than Arthur has ever heard it. A shiver suns down his spine.

An answering laugh envelopes the men, who have thankfully stopped moving. Arthur wonders for a moment if Merlin had anything to do with that. He focuses back when he hears the voice add, “And why would I do that?”

Merlin growls, actually _growls_ , as more power seems to radiate off of him. “These men are under my protection. To get to them, you will have to go through me.” Merlin’s words send a spear of fear running through Arthur’s chest. He didn’t like the idea of Merlin standing between him and danger, no matter how much power he apparently had. The protective beast inside of him was clawing at his ribcage, trying to bust free. He controlled it as best he could.

“Oh, Emrys,” the voice says, a mocking quality to it, “why do you go against your own kind? Stand up for these men who slaughter your kin?” Whoever the noice belongs to has gotten progressively angrier, voice dropping to a vicious hiss. Every part of Arthur’s body is demanding that he do something. He remains frozen, in either shock or fear for Merlin’s life, as his husband slowly descends the small hill he’s stood upon. Arthur can see fear in the eyes of the mercenary closest to him. He doesn’t really blame him.

“Because these men, are good men.” Merlin replies. As he approaches, Arthur notices him looking around. Clearly, another sorcerer was in play here. Merlin had obviously sensed it, but hadn’t pinpointed their exact location yet. Merlin’s voice is dripping with a venom that Arthur has never heard as he adds, “It was _you_ that the druids were hiding themselves from, isn’t it?”

A man in a flowing black cloak suddenly appears before them, and Merlin twists to face him. “The druids are weak, too content with putting their hope and faith in a prophecy that may never come to pass. When the sensed my presence here, they fled like the cowards they are, making it impossible to track them.” The man sneers. “It didn’t take me long to think of this little trap for you precious _Prince_. It seems there are plenty of men out here who would open the brat from throat to navel without a second thought.”

Arthur winces at that. He can’t even begin to imagine how painful a death that would be. He also has trouble wrapping his head around the fact that there were people in his own kingdom that hated him enough to do that. Sure, Morgana has complained that he was pompous and arrogant at times, but was that worthy of such hatred?

“You will not touch Arthur.” Merlin now says, voice heavy and predatory. Arthur notes how Merlin moves to put himself directly between him and whoever this sorcerer was.

The man snorts. “Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten? You sold yourself into the Royal family like some kind of filth.” Fury burns hot in Arthur gut. He didn’t like how this man was speaking to his husband. Merlin, however, seems unaffected. In fact, he actually laughs.

“Your opinion on my husband might matter a little more if you weren’t about to be dead soon.” There’s a hardness to Merlin’s voice that causes Arthur to flinch. The man before him was Merlin, but at that moment, Arthur didn’t recognize him. He glances briefly beside him, managing to lock eyes with Leon. Leon looked worried, but there was still an element of trust there. Even now, with the knowledge that Merlin was a sorcerer himself, Leon was not afraid of him. Arthur couldn’t say the same for the others, and he didn’t care to find out just yet.

The man’s face hardens as he glowers at Merlin, clearly not liking the threat. “What are _you_ going to do to me, Emrys?” He spits. “You don’t have it in you to kill a man.”

Merlin takes a step closer. “You have no idea what I am capable of when my love and my friends are threatened.” Merlin replies, and Arthur believes him. He knows exactly how Merlin feels.

Several things happen at once. All the men surrounding Arthur and the knights get blasted backward, off their feet, and land in ungraceful heaps on the ground. None of them get back up. Arthur isn’t sure it it’s because they’re merely unconscious, or dead. For some reason, he’s hoping that it isn’t the latter, for Merlin’s sake later. The man across from them yells a spell, hand outstretched toward Merlin. Arthur has no idea what it is, can’t see anything shooting at his husband. Merlin yells something in return, a string of words in another language that Arthur can’t hope to understand, and the two spells seems to crash into each other in the middle.

Merlin stumbles back at the impact, finally getting within touching distance of Arthur, but seems to hold on. The man looks furious, face twisted in concentration as he seems to push more power into whatever he just yelled. Arthur hears Merlin groan with the strength it’s taking to fight back, and something tells Arthur to reach out and touch his shoulder. As soon as his fingers make contact, it’s like raw electricity shoots through him. He almost _feels_ Merlin gasp, somehow, rather than hears it. The man facing them suddenly looks worried, his feet sliding back through the dirt, despite his braced stance. His eyes flare gold one final time before Merlin growls again, a rumble deep in his chest, and steps forward, pushing his hands out toward the sorcerer. Arthur watches in shock as the man goes flying backward. When he lands, there’s small wisps of smoke rising from his unmoving body.

“Merlin?” Arthur breathes. He watches as his husband takes a faltering step back. He half turns so he can see Arthur’s face. There’s a thick stream of blood running from Merlin’s nose and down his chin.

“You’re safe.” Merlin gasps out, like he’s in pain. “You’re all safe.” His knees start to buckle under his weight.

“Merlin!” Arthur cries, stumbling forward to catch him as he starts to fall. The sudden weight drags Arthur down to his knees. Frantically, he tugs his leather glove off with his teeth, dropping it in the dirt as he lifts his shaking hand to Merlin’s neck. The relief at feeling a strong, steady pulse there is so strong that Arthur nearly cries. With the knowledge that Merlin is still alive, he finally looks back up at his knights.

The five men are staring back at him in shock, four standing and one on the ground. Fear for Merlin’s life comes rushing back to the surface. He may have survived a showdown with a clearly powerful sorcerer, but any one of these knights could turn him over to the king, and his fate would be sealed. He stares back at them.

“I need to know,” he starts in a surprisingly strong voice, “if your allegiance lies with my father, or with me. I made a vow to protect this man, my husband, and I intend to uphold that with my life.” Five pairs of eyes stare back at him unwaveringly. Arthur holds his breath.

Slowly, Sir Leon sinks to one knee, head bowed. “You have my loyalty, and my allegiance, Prince Arthur. Merlin’s secret, and his life, are safe with me. I vow to protect him by your side.” He says, no hint of hesitation in his voice. One by one, the other four do the same, making similar pledges. Arthur continues to stare, unsure how to respond.

Finally, he chokes out, “Thank you.” His men all nod, getting back to their feet. One of them, possibly Sir Kay, mentions going to find the horses. Arthur barely hears him as he stares down at Merlin’s face. He wipes the blood from his lips and chin as best he can, relieved to see that it had stopped flowing now. Still, there’s a smear of blood across Merlin’s cheek, and Arthur is almost physically sick.

The horses get rounded up much sooner than Arthur thought they would. Thankfully, they hadn’t run far. It’s Leon who approaches him, the others helping Elymere up onto his horse. Arthur blinks back to the present as the knight says his name. Merlin’s unconscious body is a heavy weight in his lap.

“I have Merlin’s horse tied to yours, Arthur. I can help assist you in getting Merlin up onto Llamrei with you.” He says softly. Arthur nods, slowly shifting his legs underneath him so he can rise. He gingerly pulls Merlin up with him, bending slightly so he can wrap an arm behind his knees and scoop his safely up into his arms. He reluctantly passes him over to Leon so he can climb up into the saddle, readily accepting him back into his arms once he’s settled.

“You’re fine, Merlin. You’re going to be fine.” Arthur whispers in his ear as he wraps a strong arm around his waist, keeping his back pressed flush against Arthur’s chest. He holds the reins with one hand, trusting Llamrei to follow the others back to Camelot.

The ride back to Camelot is slower, and Arthur heaves a sigh of relief once the city finally comes into view. He sends the first guard he sees to go fetch Gaius for him. The Court Physician must not have been far, because he shows up in the courtyard shortly after they all pull up in front of the steps leading into the castle. Arthur waits until Leon has dismounted, and can help pull Merlin off of Llmarei’s back, before he nimbly jumps down. He takes Merlin back into his arms, shifting worried eyes toward the older man.

“Let’s get him inside.” Gaius says, already turning to reenter the castle. Arthur hurries behind him, doing his best not to jostle Merlin too much. Once they’re safely shut away in the Physician's quarters, Arthur speaks.

“He saved us, Gaius, from a sorcerer. He just collapsed after, but he’s still alive. I felt his pulse.” He rushes out, unsure if his father could show up at any time.

Gaius nods and look at him. “Arthur, you won’t like this, but leave him here for me to work with. You just go report to your father. Merlin will be fine.” Arthur chews on his lip, really not liking the idea of letting Merlin out of his sight, not even with him in the capable hands of the Court Physician. Finally, however, he sighs and nods.

“I’m coming back as soon as I’m finished speaking with my father.” He says. Gaius nods agreeably, then shoos him out. Arthur moves through the castle, almost feeling numb. He meets his five knights outside of the council chambers. Sir Bedivere claps a strong hand down on his shoulder.

“We all meant what we said. We stand by you, and Merlin. None of us will betray you. We will go with whatever you tell the King in there.” The other four nod solemnly. Arthur smiles weakly. He notices that someone had bandaged Sir Elymere’s arm.

“You should go see Gaius after this.” He tells his knight. He gets a nod in return. Arthur takes a deep breath, and pushes through the doors.

“Arthur,” Uther greets, “I assume you have come to report.” Arthur nods, taking a deep breath before launching into a very abbreviated, and slightly twisted, version of events. They had ridden out to the druid camp as planned, but found it to be long since deserted. Upon starting their search, they were attacked by a group of mercenaries, who appeared to have been waiting for them there. The fight had been bloody, but they prevailed. After an inspection of the injuries to his men, Arthur had made the decision to come back. He had come to the conclusion that while druids may have been there at some point, the rumours of them still being there had been a trap, designed to lure Arthur himself out there to be killed. There were no druids in the kingdom. Not anymore.

Uther listens with pursed lips as the knights back up Arthur’s story, throwing in their own details when called upon. To Arthur’s great relief, the King is convinced. He even goes so far as to tell Arthur that he had done a good job, had handled the situation well, as befitting the Prince of Camelot. Upon being dismissed, Arthur and the knights leave. He thanks them one last time once they are out of earshot of the king. They repeat their loyalty to him before going off their own ways. Arthur accompanies Sir Elymere on his way to see Gaius, desperate to be by his husband’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to make the next chapter the last one. However, there is a definite chance that I may revisit this at a later date to add on a few more chapters (set in the future after Arthur is crowned King).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: I have changed the rating of this story, and it is for this chapter! I hadn’t intended to write any smut for this story, but it just kinda flowed well. If you do not wish to read sexual content, I am trusting you to stop reading if you start feeling uncomfortable!

The days following their return were quiet, but also hectic in their own way. Gaius had insisted that Merlin take it easy, so that his magic (yes, he had always known about that) could, for lack of a better word, recharge. The day after, Morgana had stormed into their chambers and smacked them both upside the head, demanding that they both better start being more careful or she’d end up in an early grave. Then she had hugged them both so hard that Arthur was sure he had heard Merlin’s ribs crack. He had wanted to stay with Merlin while he rested, but he still had his usual duties to perform. For two whole days he found himself at training with the knights, followed by council meetings in the afternoon. While Merlin was rested, Arthur was exhausted.

It was their fourth day back that Arthur put his foot down and demanded to have a day to rest. Uther has reluctantly obliged, relieving him of all his Princely duties for the day. Sir Leon would train the knights, his council was not required in court. He was allowed to stay in their chambers for as long as he wanted, and just spend time with his husband. And that he did. One of the only times he left was to sneak down to the kitchens to knick a jug of wine for the two of them.

“Merlin, what did that man mean? About a prophecy? And why did he call you Emrys?” He asks. Merlin looks at him over the rim of his goblet as he takes a sip of wine.

“That is what the druids call me.” Merlin replies after swallowing. “They say that I’m the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth. I’m not too sure I believe them, but...” He trails off with a shrug.

Arthur can’t help but smile at him. “I believe them.” He says, making Merlin blush and smile bashfully. “What about this prophecy?” He adds curiously. He had wanted to ask Merlin this ever since the words had left the man’s lips back in the forest, but he had never been faced with the right opportunity.

Merlin hums before replying. “Long before you or I were even born, the druids spoke of a king. This king would bring magic back to the kingdom, but in its purest form. People used to use magic for much more nefarious means. That’s why your father banned it in the first place. It corrupted people, making them strive for power and glory.” He says. Arthur’s eyebrows rise in surprise. His father had told him of how magic was evil, but he had never explained why he had viewed it as such. Now, he knew.

“This king,” Merlin continues, “was also fated with uniting the lands of Albion. He would be the greatest king the world has ever known.” He stops and stares at Arthur mildly. Arthur scrunches his nose up in confusion.

“What does this have to do with me?” He asks.

Merlin huffs out a laugh, reaching up a hand to gently run the backs of his fingers over Arthur’s cheek. “That king, is you, Arthur. The prophecy that the druids foretold, is about you. They have waited a long time for you to be ready to fulfill your destiny, and their wait is almost over.”

Arthur stares at Merlin in shock. “Me?” He splutters incredulously. “Why would they think that king is _me_?”

Merlin just shrugs, sitting back and sipping his wine. It’s bringing a beautiful flush to his cheeks. “I don’t know. I’m not the one who can give you all the answers. Destinies and prophecies are fickle things, but you can’t escape them.”

Arthur sits back too, mulling over what he was just told. So, he was fated to be a great king? The greatest one the world had ever known? No big deal. No pressure. So what if stories would be told about him to future generations? He could handle that. _No problem_.

“Does this prophecy have anything to do with you, Emrys?” He asks.

Merlin’s eyes flick to his, and he stays silent for a moment. “I am meant to be by your side, protecting you, and ensuring that you become king. That the prophecy can come to pass.”

Arthur frowns. “So, you’re only here out of duty?” He asks. Well, that hurts a a little bit. To his surprise, Merlin actually smiles fondly at him.

“No, Arthur. The prophecy does not specify how our lives are to be entwined, only that they lie together. I am here by your side, as your husband, because I wish to be. I hold you so reverently in my heart because I cannot imagine doing anything else.”

Arthur hums. “Our paths were made to lie together. So, we were essentially destined to end up here, together, one way or another?” He asks. Merlin nods. “So, one could say we were soulmates then.” He states, nodding at his logic.

Merlin snorts, putting his empty goblet down. “Not necessarily, but we can call it that if you want.” He replies, a twinkle in his eyes.

Arthur looks at him thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side. “You know, that really does help a lot of things make sense.” Merlin looks back at him curiously, so he elaborates. “From the moment we first met, I felt drawn to you. Almost like you were a part of me that I hadn’t even realized was missing. Whenever you were close, it felt soothing, like you filled a craving that my body had without my knowledge. I have never felt so close to another person so quickly, as I did with you. There’s always been something about you, and now I know what it is.”

Merlin looks back at him, expression unreadable. “And what is it?” He asks, and Arthur feels a shivers at the sound of his voice. It’s a little deeper than usual, but not as deep as it had been when he had been protecting them all from that sorcerer.

“You’re a part of me.” Arthur whispers. “Like we’re two sides of the same coin. We were created for each other. Meant to walk this world together. I am happiest when I’m with you, because you complete me.” By now, Arthur has gotten to his feet, and is now leaning down over his husband, hands braced on the arms of Merlin’s chair. “Don’t you feel it too?” He breathes out quietly.

Merlin nods his head. “Yes.” He whispers, breathlessly. Arthur smiles, heart inflating in his chest until all he can feel is the love he feels for this man, surging through his veins.

“I love you, Merlin.” Arthur says, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice, it’s so choked with _something_.

Merlin exhales shakily. “I love you, too, Arthur. With all my heart.” Arthur swears that something inside him starts purring as Merlin inclines his head and their lips finally meet. They hadn’t shared any proper intimacy since before the whole druid mess had started. Not for a lack of desire, just for a lack of time.

Arthur runs his hands up Merlin’s arms, past his shoulders, and into Merlin’s hair. His fingers tangle in the soft strands, tugging just enough to make Merlin gasp against his lips. He takes the opportunity to slip is tongue past Merlin’s lips, pulling a needy groan from the man’s lips. The sound sends a jolt of heat running through Arthur’s body, pooling in his stomach. He feels Merlin’s hands come up to grip restlessly at his tunic, and he pulls away, panting hard.

Merlin stares up at him with big, dark eyes, cheeks flushed for an entirely different reason now. His lips are a darker red now, and slightly swollen from their hungry kisses. Arthur can’t help himself as he ducks his head and mouths along Merlin’s jaw. Merlin sighs softly, tilting his head back as Arthur trails kisses down to his throat. His grip on Arthur’s clothing tightens as Arthur lets his teeth graze his skin lightly. His husband moans softly in his ear as he bites down a little, sucking a mark onto his pale skin. He soothes his tongue over it before pulling away to look at his handiwork. A red bruise is already slowly starting to form, and Arthur preens. _Mine_.

He meets Merlin’s eyes again, licking his lips hungrily. Merlin tracks the movement with his eyes, breathing a little heavier. They seem to both get the same idea at the same time, meeting each other halfway in a heated kiss. It soon turns filthy, all lips and tongue and hard breaths, and Arthur has never felt anything like it. Had never felt the lust growing in his chest, fit to burst at any moment. Merlin seems to read his mind, because the hands once pulling him closer are now pushing his shoulders away.

“Bed.” Is all he says when Arthur pulls back and looks at him in confusion. Arthur’s heart rate explodes into a frenzy as he quickly steps back, taking Merlin’s hands in his own to pull him up. Merlin presses closer, hands restlessly running under his tunic as he runs his nose along Arthur’s jawline, almost like he just can’t quite help himself. Arthur gasps as he feels teeth gently nip at his lower jaw. He stumbles back a step, pulling Merlin with him, toward the bed. Merlin goes willingly, easing them around so he sits on the plush mattress first, pulling Arthur down to straddle his lap.

“I want you to consummate me.” He purrs in Arthur’s ear, and the Prince isn’t entirely sure that, that is the correct usage of that word, but in that moment, he really doesn’t care. He pushes Merlin’s shoulders, urging him back, farther onto the bed. His husband shifts back, slowly lying on his back once his head can reach the pillows. Arthur stares at him for a moment, taking in the man so willingly laid out for him, and is struck once again by how beautiful his husband is.

The Prince crawls up over his body, eyes never straying from his husband’s. A hand in his hair pulls him closer, sealing their lips together again. Arthur wastes so time in lowering his hips, letting them grind down against Merlin’s. He can feel the man’s hard length against his, and hears Merlin’s heady moan underneath him.

“We’re wearing too many clothes.” Merlin pants against his lips. Arthur pulls back, chuckling at Merlin’s complaint. Not that he didn’t agree. He goes to lift his shirt off by the hem, when long fingers stop him. “Let me.”

They take their time shedding each other of their clothes, worshipping skin as it’s finally exposed. Arthur notes how Merlin squirms when he runs his sword calloused fingertips over the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. How he bucks his hips up, hands clenching around the sheets, as he laves his tongue over one of his nipples. He, in turn, shivers with want as Merlin gently trails his fingernails over the skin of his back. Eventually, he grows impatient, and shimmies his trousers down his hips, kicking them off completely. Merlin looks him over with dilated pupils as he reaches for his trousers next. Merlin lifts his hips, helping Arthur pull them agonizingly slowly down his legs. Once they are both only in their smallclothes, he crawls back up the bed to seal their mouths together again.

Merlin allows him to suck on his lower lip for only a moment before he whines, tugging at Arthur’s remaining clothes. Arthur chuckles lowly against his lips before giving Merlin what he wants, and freeing them of their last bits of clothing. Arthur’s gasp morphs into a groan as the bare skin of their cocks finally brush together.

“Here.” Merlin says breathlessly, pushing a small vial of oil into Arthur’s hand. He stares at it for a moment.

“Where do you get this?” He asks, as if it really mattered.

Merlin gives him a _look_. All he says is, “Magic.”

Arthur’s shrugs, popping the top of the vial off and coating his fingers liberally. Merlin shifts, spreading his legs wider as Arthur moves down his body. He swallows as he takes Merlin in, having to take a deep breath before reaching his oil slicked hand out, slipping it between his cheeks. Merlin exhales shakily as he teases a fingers around his hole, stiffening for a moment before relaxing with a moan as Arthur finally pushes a finger back the ring of muscle. Arthur slowly pushes it further in, working him open gently until Merlin breathes, “More.”

Arthur takes his time opening his husband, sucking bruises into his inner thighs whenever he feels the man tense. He crooks his fingers at regular intervals, having found that bundle of nerves deep inside that made Merlin arch off the bed, making the most delicious noises. He doesn’t stop until Merlin sits up, making his fingers slip out. He’s pulled into a fierce, short lived kiss. “I’m ready, Arthur.”

Merlin relaxes back onto the bed as Arthur once again uses the oil to slick himself up. He settles between Merlin’s braced, spread knees, holding himself steady as he lines up. He looks up, meeting Merlin’s eyes as he pushes forward. There’s some steady resistance before Merlin’s body gives, greedily accepting his intrusion. He goes slow, gauging Merlin facial expressions, before he finally bottoms out. He almost collapses on top of him, head spinning at how _amazing_ it feels, being surrounded by Merlin’s tight heat. Merlin presses a kiss to his forehead, quietly urging him to move.

Arthur takes a moment to catch his breath, needing to come back to himself, before complying with his husband’s wishes. He pulls back slowly, not going too far before slowly pushing back in. Merlin’s arms wrap themselves around his shoulders, lips seeking his. He kisses back greedily as he shifts his hips back again, slowly pushing back into the over-whelming heat. Merlin whines, shifting his hips to meet his shallow thrust, silently begging for more. Leaving an arm bracketed by Merlin’s head to hold himself up, he lets the other hand run down Merlin’s already sweaty body until his fingers settle on his hip.

He builds up his pace slowly, wanting to please Merlin, but not wanting to hurt him unintentionally. At one point, he pulls out just enough to be able to shift his angle as he pushes back in. Merlin tilts his head back into the pillows, mouth open in a beautiful moan. Arthur thrusts back in again, hitting the same spot, and Merlin whimpers, wrapping his legs securely around his hips to keep him thrusting right there. Arthur happily obliges, continuing to keep things as gentle as possible. He wants their lovemaking to last as long as possible this first time. He wants Merlin to feel just how much he truly loves him.

Before too long, however, he can feel more heat pooling in his groin, pulling his lower stomach muscles taut, and he knows that he’s nearing the end. If Merlin’s blissed out sounds are anything to go by, then he is too. Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s mouth reluctantly, making Merlin make a noise of complaint. It’s soon cut off as his mouth drops open, Arthur’s fingers curling around his throbbing, hot cock.

“Arthur.” Merlin says, shaping his name around a moan, and Arthur nearly tumbles over the edge.

Leaning closer, he nips at Merlin’s ear, whispers, “Let go, Love. I’ve got you.”

He sits back up as Merlin’s body convulses, his muscles quivering as they all tense up for a moment before he lets go, spurting all over his stomach. He clenches around Arthur inadvertently, and Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, still trying to work Merlin through his release even as his hips stutter and he tumbles over after his husband. He continues his short, shallow thrusts until he feels that his body is spent. His arms give out, and he lands on Merlin, making the man let out a _‘oomph’_. He stays there for a minute, until he’s stopped shaking enough to pick himself up, and pull out slowly. Even still, Merlin winces as his body clenches around nothing.

A flick of Merlin’s wrist, a flash of gold eyes, and they’re both clean. Arthur grins at him, reaching out to pull him closer. He notices that Merlin left the sheen of sweat covering both their bodies, and for some reason is pleased by it. Some primal part of him is happy that not all shreds of evidence of their lovemaking is gone.

“I love you.” He mumbles, lips pressed against Merlin’s shoulder. He can feel his husband smile against his neck, where he had buried his face just moments before.

“I will always love you too, my King.” He replies. Those words send a tingle though Arthur’s body.

“I’m not king yet.” He argues, simply because he can. Merlin’s face reappears, flushed and happy, with sated eyes.

“No, but you’ve always been my King, as you always will be. You _will_ become the king of legends, Arthur, and I will be by your side through all of it.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say, never having been overly great at expressing his feelings verbally. Instead, he kisses his husband thoroughly. This one has no intention for going further. It’s merely filled with all the love he could possibly feel, and more. It says all the things he finds himself unable to. It’s a promise, to love and cherish Merlin forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. The end. As I said before, there is a good chance I will be revisiting this in the future to add a few more chapters. I have loved this story too much to say goodbye JUST yet. Thank you for all the love throughout. It has made sharing this with you that much sweeter. I love each and every one of my readers! So, again, THANK YOU!! 🖤


	13. (Bonus #1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So inspiration struck A LOT sooner than I was expecting. I hope you enjoy these new updates. I’m thinking maybe two or three more??

**FOUR YEARS LATER**

The King’s health was failing. It had been for several months, but Arthur had refused to acknowledge it. His father’s decline had began to increase quite rapidly over the past week, and the Prince was always unprepared for the frailty of his father when he went to visit him. Every day, Arthur hopes that his father would have made a miraculous recovery in the night, that he would be back on his feet and ordering his son around the next morning, but every day he only seems to grow worse. Gaius had done all he could, and had advised Arthur to start preparations for his father’s funeral. Arthur refused. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wasn’t ready. There was still so much he had to learn.

Arthur doesn’t hear the sound of the door opening and closing, so he flinches when arms are suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. He relaxes immediately as a soft kiss gets planted in his hair, the arms tightening comfortingly.

“Sorry.” Merlin murmurs, nose still buried in his hair. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He pulls away, but only to prop his chin on Arthur’s head instead. “How is he?” He asks, eyeing Uther lying in the bed.

Arthur shrugs miserably. “No change. At least, not for the better. Gaius doesn’t think he’ll make it to tomorrow.” His throat chokes with emotion, so he stops talking. Even still, he has a hard time showing any kind of obvious and open vulnerability to Merlin.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I truly am.” Merlin whispers. Arthur appreciates it. He knows that his husband isn’t Uther’s number one fan, for obvious reasons, but it touched his heart that Merlin seemed to care, at least for his sake.

Arthur twists around, dislodging Merlin from his perch. “Can you save him?” He begs. “Please, Merlin, try again. I can’t— I’m not— The kingdom still needs him.” He says, stumbling over his incomplete sentences. Merlin grimaces, reaching out to take both of Arthur’s hands into his.

“Arthur, Morgana and I... we’ve tried everything we know.” He says slowly. Arthur pulls his hands away, too inwardly distraught to notice the hurt flit across Merlin’s face.

“Try again!” He demands, voice coming out louder and harsher than he meant it to.

“Arthur.” Merlin says, taking a step toward him as he rises from his chair. He takes a half step back, stopping his husband’s advances immediately.

“No.” Arthur says, shaking his head. “I do not want your excuses. I want you to heal him.” He continues stubbornly, pointing at his steadily weakening father, as if Merlin would mistake who he had meant by _him_.

Merlin’s facial expression remains expertly schooled to blank. “Arthur, after I told you about my magic, have I ever lied to you?” He asks.

“No.” Arthur replies.

Merlin nods. “And have I ever given you reason not to trust or believe anything I’ve ever spoken to you?” He adds. Arthur almost feels offended.

“No, of course not. You know that.” He replies heatedly, not liking his husband’s thought process one bit. Merlin advances again, and Arthur lets him. Let’s him gently pull him into a warm embrace.

He feels Merlin’s lips against his neck as he says, “Then please believe me that there is nothing I can do. There is nothing that anybody can do. Your father is not long for this world, and it’s time for you to say goodbye.”

Merlin’s soothing tones finally put a crack in the dam that Arthur had built up around his emotions when his father first started falling ill. It had been an illness that Gaius had never seen before. No one had. The only thing they knew for certain was that there was nothing to be done. There didn’t seem to be a cure. Not even magic had made any difference at all, much to Arthur’s dismay. He was only twenty-two. He didn’t feel anywhere _near_ ready to take on the crown. But maybe he never would.

Arthur’s whole body shudders, and he buries his face in Merlin’s neck. His husband’s arms tighten around him, drawing him impossibly closer, as one hand runs up and down his back soothingly. Arthur focuses on the warmth that the friction is creating over his back instead of the way his breathing has become erratic. His heart is pounding almost painfully in his chest, and he’s struggling to just stay focused on Merlin. Merlin’s hands. Merlin’s arms. Merlin’s body flush against his, warm and comforting. Merlin’s voice whispering soothing nonsense into his ear. _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin._

The first choked sob ripping its way out of his throat startles him. Merlin, however, doesn’t seem fazed at all, just continues his soft mumbling as he tangles the fingers of one hand into Arthur’s golden blond locks. Arthur struggles to get control of himself. He didn’t like showing such open emotion in front of others, not even Merlin, but his pent up emotions had finally burst free, and it seemed that controlling them at that moment was not an option.

“I can’t.” He gasps out. “I can’t do this, I don’t know how. I’m not ready. Please.” He isn’t even sure what he’s asking for anymore at this point, but his body is desperate for whatever it is. He feels Merlin tremble almost imperceptibly against him, and realizes that his husband is trying so hard to stay strong for him. He feels such a rush of gratitude and love for the man encircling him in his arms, that his legs nearly buckle and give out.

Arthur feels, more than hears, Merlin take a deep breath. Feels his chest rumble as he says, “You are ready, Arthur. The whole kingdom is ready for the peace and love you will bring to the throne with you. You were born to be a king, Arthur, and a great one at that.”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut and tries to burrow further into his husband’s embrace. He grits his teeth as he tries to stop the steady flow of tears down his face. If he was to be king now, he had to be able to control himself. He couldn’t afford to break down like this. The other kingdoms would view it as weakness, even more so given his young age. He had an entire kingdom of people to protect now. He couldn’t afford to be weak. With one last stuttering breath, he pulls away.

Merlin meets his eyes immediately, pain and compassion swimming in his usually carefree eyes. Arthur leans closer and presses their lips together. Let’s himself just get lost in the feeling of his husband’s mouth working steadily and in tune with his. When he slowly pulls away, he feels a fraction better. No matter what the future held, he had Merlin by his side. He always would.

Almost as if Merlin had read his mind, he opens his mouth and says, “I’ll always be here, Arthur. You don’t have to do anything on your own. Let me share some of the burden with you.” Arthur smiles at the sincerity in Merlin’s tone. He finds the words just as soothing as he always did, whenever Merlin had to assure him of their shared path in the past.

“I know.” Arthur replies softly. “Thank you, my Love.” He adds, noticing the faint blush that rises to Merlin’s cheeks at the endearment. He turns back to his father, feels that, by now, familiar pain of grief and impending loss. Instead of pushing it down as he had for months, he lets it fill him up. Let’s it build up until it consumes him. Let’s it wash over him and around him, knowing that one day, it will ebb. The hurt will be there, but it won’t be so strong.

“Goodbye, Father.” He murmurs as he squeezes a weak hand.

~~~

Merlin and, surprisingly, Morgana take care of the funeral plans the next day, leaving Arthur to mourn his father in peace. Arthur is grateful to his husband for recognizing that Arthur needed to be alone for a bit. He spends the day in their chambers, feeling numb. He doesn’t eat any of the food that William brings, only eating some fruit mid-morning when Merlin shows up and practically forces it down his throat. He remains stoic and unemotional through the funeral, the pyre, and the words of consolation afterward. He doesn’t let himself open up until he is safely in Merlin’s arms, under the warm covers of their bed, later that night.

~~~

The day of his coronation dawns sunny and warm. A new day. A new beginning. The first day of a new era. The hope for a kingdom now built on love and tolerance, instead of fear and steel-won respect. Merlin sends William away quietly once the servant brings breakfast, assuring him that he can look after the new king that morning. He wants to allow Arthur to sleep for as long as possible, considering his emotional night. When Arthur does finally wake, it’s to his husband sitting beside him and gently running his fingers through his hair. He can’t help but smile up into the familiar face.

“Come on. Up you get.” Merlin urges, getting to his feet and pulling the blankets with him. Arthur groans pitifully, burying his face into the pillows, inhaling his husband’s scent lingering there. The real thing gently runs his fingers over Arthur’s bare skin on his back. Arthur sighs and reluctantly rolls over to face him. Merlin smiles lovingly down at him, holding out a hand. Arthur takes it grudgingly.

Once on his feet, Merlin pulls him into a chaste kiss, giving him subtle reassurance that today is going to be okay. Promising him that he doesn’t have to be alone, unless he so chooses to be. All of his wishes, the reasonable ones anyway, will be complied with. Arthur kisses back readily. His unspoken thank you.

They eat breakfast together in silence. It’s not awkward, but it’s heavy. Today is a big day. One that will change Arthur’s life forever, and in turn, change Merlin’s. Despite his words of reassurance, there is still an uncertainty to Merlin’s movements. It’s one thing to make plans and dreams for the future. It’s another thing entirely to try to see them come to fruition. Who knows how much resistance they will face as they embark on their journey towards peace for all people.

William had pulled out Arthur’s royal wardrobe the day before, at some point when Arthur had not been in his chambers, and ensured that they were clean and ready for Arthur to wear today. A king represents his kingdom, and so, must look his best when in the public eye. Especially when being crowned.

Arthur fidgets restlessly as Merlin dresses him, much to the man’s annoyance. He debates on spelling Arthur to keep him still, but doesn’t. He had never used his magic on Arthur before, he wasn’t about to start now. His annoyance fades, somewhat, when Arthur shoots him an apologetic smile, and mumbles something that was probably supposed to be some variation of an _’I’m sorry’_. He was nervous. He couldn’t help it. They both almost breathe a sigh of relief as Merlin positions the flowing red cloak around his shoulders, the golden Pendragon crest catching and sparkling in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Merlin secures the clasp around his shoulders, then settles a hand on his chest, right above his heart.

Their eyes lock for a moment, a heartbeat of time. Arthur sees his whole life reflected back to him in Merlin’s eyes, and mourns the fact that he doesn’t have the right words to explain to his husband just how important he really is. He is not just the Prince’s Royal Consort, soon to be Royal Consort to the King. He is Arthur’s best advisor. His most trusted companion. If Arthur couldn’t imagine his life without Merlin before, then it was purely unthinkable now. Merlin was everything to him.

“I love you.” He says, almost wincing when the three words just don’t feel like enough. Merlin smiles softly at him anyway. Once again seeming to hear the unspoken words accompanying Arthur’s verbal ones.

Merlin rests their foreheads together. “I love you, too, my King. My heart is yours. Forever.” He breathes out, letting the words hang in the air between them. Arthur’s heart lurches at the reverent way Merlin says the words _my King_. It is certainly not the first time he had heard those words uttered from his husband’s lips, but it is the first time that they are finally truthful. Almost.

Merlin pulls him into another short lived kiss, before stepping away. “We must go, or you’ll be late for you own coronation.” He jokes teasingly. Arthur’s chest squeezes again, tightening around his lungs until he’s sure he won’t be able to breathe. Merlin takes his hands, squeezing them firmly, bringing his thoughts back outward. Arthur nods. _He could do this._

The halls down to the throne room feel unnaturally empty. It seems that everyone wants to be there to see their new king crowned. A jolt of anxiety floods his veins at the thought, but he soldiers on. The time for obvious uncertainty was over. He had to leave that behind in their chambers, where only Merlin could see it, pick it apart, help to quell it. Now, he needed to appear sure and strong. Only then would his people have any shred of faith in him.

They stop outside the closed throne room doors. Merlin pulls him into another hug, whispering, “I’ll see you in there.” He pulls back, settling his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, and giving him a bright smile. He looks proud. Arthur feels some strength from it fill him up. The doors open, allowing Merlin entrance before they close again. Arthur waits in place, heart hammering, and eyes closed. He takes a few deep breaths. _He could do this._

He nearly jumps as the doors finally open. Eyes along both sides of the aisle turn to face him, but he ignores them, instead focusing on Merlin at the very end. He briefly wonders if this is how Merlin felt on their wedding day all those years previous. He swallows whatever emotion is building up in his throat, and advances through the room. He keeps his eyes locked with his husband’s the entire way. It almost seems as if Merlin doesn’t so much as blink, gaze unwavering as he stares back.

Just as it had on their wedding, the whole ceremony passes in a blur. Geoffrey recites the necessary passages, Arthur repeating the words back to him as needed. A solemn promise to rule this land to the best of his abilities. He remains expressionless as Geoffrey gently places the crown atop his head. He rises to his feet, meeting Merlin’s eyes briefly. He sees the love and pride shining there. He slowly turns to face the rest of the room. Morgana looks just as proud, standing in the front of the room, shoulders back and chin up. The very picture of regallness and royalty.

“Long live the King.” He hears Geoffrey say behind him. He is very nearly overwhelmed as the entirety of the room chants the words back at him. A warm hand settles into his, fingers curling together. The warmest voice of them all whispers in his ear.

“Long live the King.” Merlin says. Arthur allows his head to turn to meet his husband’s eyes. “Long live _my_ King.” He says. Arthur can’t help himself as he pulls Merlin into a warm, love-filled kiss. He was foolish to have ever thought he couldn’t do this. With Merlin by his side, attaining the whole world felt possible. The whole room is still cheering as they break apart. Morgana is now smirking at them from her place. The chants of _‘long live the king’_ continue as they make their way hand-in-hand from the room.

Merlin tugs him back to their chambers, knowing they have a little time before the feast, held in honour of their new king. As soon as the doors are closed securely behind them, Merlin is spinning and pressing fully against Arthur, front to front. He hums contentedly ad he runs his hands up the King’s shoulders. Arthur watches his face with interested eyes, waiting to see what exactly his husband had in mind.

A searing hot kiss is pressed to his lips, and he happily obliges. Kissing Merlin was like a drug. He could never get enough of it. Warm hands settle on his neck, fingertips pressing into the soft skin and urging him closer. He wraps his hands snugly around Merlin’s waist and pulls him closer as well. His entire body both buzzes with excitement and soothes at Merlin’s proximity, at the feel of him pressed so fully up against him. The feeling is just as intoxicating as it had been the first time.

Merlin pulls away with a gasp, almost looking up into Arthur’s eyes helplessly. “I think I underestimated just how good you would look in that crown.” He admits, face flushing red. Arthur smirks in victory at the very _obvious_ effect that he was having on his husband.

“I can’t imagine why.” He drawls teasingly. “You, yourself, said that I was born to wear it.”

Merlin’s eyes darken as he mutters, “Prat.”

Arthur laughs and kisses him again. “Come.” He says, pulling out of Merlin’s embrace and taking his hand, leading him backward toward the bed. “We probably don’t have much time.”

Merlin follows, muttering a spell to remove their clothes even as they’re walking. The ache of loss is still ever present in Arthur’s chest as they sink onto the bed, the nerve-wracking feeling of uncertainty lingering there as well. As Merlin moves over top of him, however, they get overshadowed by love, and by the hope for a much brighter future.


	14. (Bonus #2)

**FIVE MONTHS AFTER CORONATION**

“Merlin, I understand your frustrations, but we have to take this slow.” Arthur says placatingly. Merlin groans in frustration, and turns away, taking a few steps away from the table and his husband. Arthur runs a weary hand down his face. He had been king for all of five months, and they had been some of the longest months of his life. The day after his coronation he, Merlin, and Morgana had been meeting every day to start putting their new magical laws into being. It had been a slow process, Arthur insisting that they couldn’t just change everything at once. The other two had agreed. At first. Now, things were becoming a bit more tense.

“The people have accepted the changes that we have made so far.” Merlin argues.

Arthur sighs, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Yes, they have.” He starts slowly. “But that’s because we have given them time to get used to the idea. My father was king for many years. All these people have only known hatred for magic for twenty years. They need time to see that they had been lied to all that time. Suddenly repealing the ban would only result in a revolt amongst the people. They’d be scared.” He tries to explain.

Merlin turns to face him. “Is it them that’s scared, or is it you?” He asks, and Arthur flinches. “You were raised to view magic as evil. Until you were eighteen, that’s all you knew. Are you just as worried as you claim your people to be?”

Arthur stares at his husband in shock. Did he really believe all that? Even after all this time? Arthur had done everything he could to help those with magic while his father was alive. Granted, he’d had to do so discreetly, in order to keep Merlin alive, but he had still defied the king. Did his husband truly believe that he had hid his actions over fear of the magic he was trying to protect?

He meets Merlin’s angry eyes. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I made a promise to you and Morgana to free magic, but these things take time. Political matters are delicate, believe me. I have been raised to do this since birth.” He replies calmly, but with just enough edge to his voice to let Merlin know that he did not appreciate the baseless accusation.

The King watches as Merlin’s jaw clenches, the muscles tightening and jumping visibly, before fully relaxing as his shoulders slump in defeat. Arthur takes his change of attitude as permission to approach him. Merlin doesn’t fight it as Arthur pulls him into a warm embrace. These arguments were always easier without Morgana here. While Merlin had just as much fire in his heart as his sister did, he was much quicker to see sense and back down. Morgana was prone to holding onto her frustration and anger for a much longer period of time. She still viewed Arthur as the _‘arrogant, pompous brat’_ that she had thought of him as a child instead of the King of Camelot.

“I know.” Merlin mumbles. “I’m sorry. I’m just... so tired of hiding who I really am.” He says, tone decidedly dejected.

Arthur runs his hand up and down Merlin’s back. “I know you are, and I’m sorry this is taking so long, but we have to do this right. If we do too much too soon, we will be met with resistance. I have only been king for five months. The people need time to trust my decisions.”

With Merlin’s chin hooked over his shoulder, Arthur doesn’t see the eye roll that his words bring on. Despite the fact that he had been well loved by the people when he was merely their Prince, he was stubbornly insistent that they now had a different opinion of him as king. His young age and inexperience made him uncertain, and blind to the devotion his people already had for him. A devotion that Merlin and Morgana could see clear as day. Still, if Arthur thought it best to take things slow, then no one would be able to convince him otherwise. Now even Merlin.

“You just need to hold on a little longer.” Arthur adds softly, turning his head slightly to press his nose into Merlin’s hair. His husband doesn’t reply, just presses closer. He hated arguing with Merlin, and this particular argument seemed to be happening more and more often lately.

The sound of the door opening is the only warning they get to Morgana’s presence. Arthur sighs as he pulls away from his husband. One of these days, Morgana is going to enter their chambers without knocking, and really, _really_ regret it. Thankfully, today is not that day. They both turn to face her properly, surprised at her presence. She had informed them that they should go over the laws as usual without her, as she had some important business to attend to. She hadn’t told them what. Her unexpected arrival makes a trill of worry travel up Arthur’s spine.

“‘Gana, what is it?” He asks, taking in her pale and drawn face. While his sister was generally a serious person in most cases, she was rarely _this_ serious.

Merlin seems to pick up on it too, taking a tentative step toward her. He doesn’t say anything, but Morgana still seems to react. Arthur then realizes that they are speaking to each other in their heads, or whatever Merlin had called it. They had started perfecting the method of communication shortly after that raid turned ambush four years ago. While the King realized that it most certainly came in handy at times, he usually hated feeling left in the dark when they used it. Like now, for instance, when Merlin pales and glances at Arthur quickly. Morgana almost looks pleading as she looks back at him.

“Are you two going to share, or do I need to start taking guesses?” He asks, a little grumpily, but he thinks he’s entitled. He is the king, after all.

Morgana turns her pleading eyes his way instead. “I know you’ve been hearing this a lot from the two of us, but there’s something I need to tell you.” She finally says. Arthur feels his shoulders sag, a headache already thinking about blooming behind his eyes. He once again finds himself wondering what on earth he had done to deserve all this.

He waves a hand vaguely as he says, “Go on then. May as well get it over with.” He tacks on a weary sigh for effect, moving back to lean against this table. He lifts his eyes expectantly to his sister when she fails to start talking.

Merlin suddenly appears at his side, gently touching his elbow. “You may want to sit down.” He says softly. Arthur looks at him in surprise. Just how bad was this new life-altering information going to be? He goes to argue, but something in Merlin’s eyes tells him to just do as was suggested. Morgana and Merlin share a tense look as he settles down.

The King spreads his hands wide. “Well?” He prompts, already feeling his patience slipping.

Morgana slowly approaches. “A couple weeks ago, I had a dream. A vision.” She says. Arthur nods, because this isn’t anything new. She had been suffering these dream visions for several years. “This one was different. It wasn’t a vision of a future event not yet come to pass, but something that had already happened. Many years ago.” She says.

Arthur sits up at that. “That’s never happened before, has it?” He asks. When his sister shakes her head, he flicks his eyes to Merlin. “How is that even possible?”

“The only thing I can think of,” Morgana says, pulling his attention back to her, “is that someone else, another sorcerer or sorceress, planted it there for me to see.”

“Why?” Arthur scrunches his nose up in confusion.

Morgana glances at Merlin, who gives her a very small nod. “I don’t know, but this vision... it was about your mother.”

Arthur freezes in his place. His mother? All he knew of her was that she had died in childbirth. The pregnancy had been difficult, and shortly after he had come into the world, she had passed. His father had never outright said it, but Arthur always felt as if he was to blame for her death. If it hadn’t been for him, she would still be alive. He had stopped asking about his mother by the time he was five. His father had always refused to even mention her name, much less any actual details about her. He only knew her name, and a vague description of her beauty, because his nursemaid had taken pity on him one evening after his father had yelled at him, and he had subconsciously craved his mother’s comfort.

“What about my mother?” He asks in a choked voice.

Morgana pales further, fingers fiddling restlessly together. “The vision was vague, so I had to spend a lot of time in the library, and talking to people who had been there. There aren’t many left, but they all eventually spoke with me, after some convincing.” She says.

“Morgana.” Arthur interrupts her. “What about my mother?” He asks again, slowly, and emphasizing every word.

Morgana takes a deep breath. “She died giving birth, as we all know, but the circumstances regarding her pregnancy were covered up.” She says. Arthur silently lifts an eyebrow. “Your mother, she couldn’t get pregnant, no matter what your parents tried.”

Arthur huffs out a breath. “I think I’m living proof that, that’s wrong, ‘Gana.” He says offhandedly.

Merlin squeezes his shoulder. “Let her finish.” He chastises softly.

Arthur looks back at Morgana, waving her on. She nods and starts again. “Uther was so desperate for an heir, that he turned to magic for a solution. The sorceress who finally agreed to help, warned him of the consequences of playing with life, but he didn’t care. For the future of his kingdom, his legacy, he needed a son.”

The King swallows and asks, “What are you trying to say?”

“To create life, a life must be taken. I’m sure Uther hadn’t intended for it to be Ygraine, but it was all the same. He went mad with grief, turned on the sorceress who had helped him. He accused her of killing his wife intentionally, had vowed that he would have his revenge.” Morgana pauses to take a deep breath. Her voice is a little wobble as she continues, “You have spent your whole life thinking you killed your mother, and Uther never did a thing to correct that. It was _he_ who condemned your mother to death, and then waged a war on magic to try to clear this guilt away.”

The room starts spinning slightly as Arthur struggles to take in everything his sister had just told him. His father had lied to him his entire life. No wonder he never told him exactly why he hated magic so much in the first place. He had played with something he didn’t understand, had ignored the warnings he had been given, and then lashed out when he couldn’t handle the consequences. He had hunted down those with magic in a personal vendetta over something he had caused himself.

He gets to his feet quickly enough that his chair tips and crashes to the floor. His breathing is erratic as he crosses the floor. His hands are shaky as he grips the door handle, wrenching the door open. His heart is pounding so loudly in his ears that he barely hears Morgana speak behind him.

“No, Merlin. Let him go.” Her tone is gentle, but just as commanding as his own could be from time to time. He rushes away before his husband can disobey her.

His feet take him to the stables before he even realizes what his destination is. It’s late enough that all the stables’ staff have gone home for the night, leaving Arthur to approach Llamrei in blessed silence. She huffs curiously at him as he grabs her bridle and slips the bit into her mouth. Once all the straps are done up, he leads her outside, then swings up onto her bare back. She chomps on the bit restlessly, picking up on his obvious agitation. He soothes a hand down her neck once, then kicks her into a gallop, and races out of the courtyard.

After racing through the trees in the steadily failing light, he finally finds himself in a small clearing. The sky above him is streaked with pinks and oranges. For some reason, he finds the sight relaxing. He slides from Llmarei’s back, patting her sweaty neck. She gazes back at him, almost like she’s trying to comfort him. He huffs and pushes the thought aside. She’s only a horse. She has no idea what’s going on right now.

After securing her reins to a tree, loose enough that she can reach the lush grass underneath, he moves out to the middle of the clearing and slowly sits down. His body subconsciously curls up into itself, and he finds his arms wrapped around his raised knees, his face buried between them. After a few unsteady breaths, he finally lets the tears for a mother he never knew roll down his cheeks silently. For the first time since he was four and a half years old, he lets himself mourn.

Once exhaustion starts to seep into his bones, Arthur decides its time to go back. He had stopped crying an undetermined amount of time ago, choosing to lie back and stare up at the darkening sky. He had wistfully watched the stars slowly start to peek out of the darkness, and somehow was reminded of Merlin. A tug in his chest tells him that now that he’s emotionally drained, he now craves his husband over his solitude.

The ride back is much slower, and Llamrei seems to appreciate it. She had worked quite hard that morning, when Arthur had, had the knights practice jousting and mounted battle skills. He feels a twinge if guilt at his rash decision to escape the city for a while. Llamrei tosses her head, snoring softly, as if reading his mind, and assuring him that all is well. He pats her neck affectionately.

Merlin slowly comes into view as Arthur enters the courtyard, seated on the stone steps, and curled into himself miserably. He looks up at the sound of Llmarei’s metal shoes clicking loudly on the courtyard cobblestones. A look of pure relief crosses his face as he gets to his feet. As soon as Arthur’s boots hit the ground, he’s pulled roughly into a hug. Arthur allows himself to be manhandled, craving the comfort just as much as Merlin needs to provide it.

“Don’t ever run off like that again, do you hear me?” Merlin whispers fiercely in his ear. “I was worried sick, you prat.”

Arthur huffs out a watery laugh, and pulls away. “I’m sorry.” He says softly, shifting his hands to caress Merlin’s cheeks. His husband’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into Arthur’s right hand. When they reopen, they meet the King’s questioningly.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks. Arthur is grateful that he didn’t ask if he was currently okay. Because, no, he wasn’t. But he also didn’t want to say it out loud. No matter what Merlin and Morgana may say, becoming king had made it that much more important to not show any weakness. Not when it could be viewed by others, anyway.

“Yes.” He replies honestly. Merlin nods, a small bob of his head. “I need to go see my father.” He adds on, speaking of the memorial statue erected in Uther’s honour that resided inside the citadel. When he takes a step back, and Merlin goes to follow, he gently shakes his head. “This is something I need to do alone. I won’t be long.”

Merlin chews on his lip, nodding reluctantly. Arthur uses his hand on the back of Merlin’s head to pull him down and kiss his forehead. He ignores Merlin’s sad eyes as he moves to take the steps into the castle. The halls are quiet as he makes his way through them, and he wonders briefly what time of night it is. How long had he been gone? He still doesn’t fully have his thoughts in order as he pushes through a set of doors, and finally sees what’s left of his father’s memory.

He slowly crosses the room, his anger building up in his chest again. “Father,” he hears himself say, “I wish this was something you would’ve explained to me while you were alive. I know what you did now. I know why you did it, but that doesn’t excuse your behaviour afterward. All those people you condemned to death. Did it make you feel better?”

He paces the floor restlessly for a moment. “I want you to know that I do not share your views on magic. I don’t think I ever really did. I have learned that magic is no more dangerous than a sword when wielded in the right hands. The age of fear and tyranny is over. No longer will the people have to live in fear for their lives.” He stops, thoughts drifting to Merlin, as they do often did. His husband was the one truly _good_ thing his father ever did.

“You brought Merlin to me, and for that, I will always be grateful. I just want you to know that your hatred died alongside you. I have to rule the kingdom the way I feel is best. And that’s not how you did it.” He stops there, watching the stone face of his father, almost expecting it to come to life and reprimand him. When it doesn’t, he heaves a sigh, feeling some of the pain in his chest leave with it. When he turns to leave, he doesn’t look back.

When he leaves the room, it’s Morgana who’s waiting for him. He wonders again just how long it had been. She takes one look at his face, and says, “I had William take Merlin to your chambers. The poor thing is exhausted.”

Arthur nods. “Thank you.” He says. He meets her eyes and adds, “And thank you for telling me the truth.”

Morgana looks pained when she replies, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause you pain.”

Arthur waves her off. “If anything, it has made my resolve to fix our father’s mistakes that much stronger. I had a right to know what happened to my mother, so thank you.” He takes her hands in his and squeezes them firmly. She smiles back.

“Go to your husband. He’s been out of his mind ever since you left.” She says. He huffs out a laugh, but nods all the same. She pulls him into a brief hug before slipping away and disappearing down the hall, no doubt to retire for the night herself.

Arthur finds Merlin fast asleep at the table when he enters their chambers. He can’t fight off the fond smile that pulls at his lips at the sight. He would like nothing more than to just let Merlin sleep, but he knows how achey his husband will be in the morning if he stays where he is. He allows himself a moment to just take in Merlin’s relaxed features, before gently shaking him awake.

“‘Rth’r?” He slurs sleepily as he blinks up into the King’s face. Arthur smiles wider.

“Get in bed, it’s more comfortable.” He says. Merlin allows himself to be pulled upright, only just barely helping Arthur shed him of his clothes. Once Merlin is tucked safely and sleepily into bed, Arthur strips down to just his smallclothes and climbs in beside him. Merlin immediately slides closer, pressing as close to Arthur’s side as he can get. The King’s arms wind around him of their own accord, holding him as close as possible. His thoughts are still whirling, but he settles somewhat as Merlin presses an innocent kiss to his chest. Closing his eyes, he forces his mind to focus on the feel of Merlin’s skin against his own, instead of everything else. He eventually drifts asleep to the sound of Merlin’s gentle breathing.


	15. (Bonus #3)

**ONE YEAR AFTER CORONATION**

Morgana still didn’t look convinced, and Arthur was getting impatient. He needed an answer. Tomorrow, the magic ban would be repealed fully, after a long year of working up to it, and Arthur had decided that the court needed a Court Sorcerer. Or, in this case, a Court Sorceress. Why Morgana was dragging her heels, the King had no idea.

Morgana turns to face him. “Why me and not Merlin?” She asks.

Arthur heaves a sigh. “Because I made you a promise. Don’t you remember that? You don’t fight me for the throne, I make you my Court Sorceress.” He says. Morgana just stares at him incredulously.

“Arthur, I was just joking back then. I always knew that Merlin would be your Court Sorcerer.” She says, without a hint of accusation or jealously in her voice. Arthur was almost surprised. His sister had always been one to strive for power and position. Or, at least, she had seemed to be.

“Merlin doesn’t want it.” The King says at last. Morgana lifts an eyebrow, silently asking for more information. “When I had mentioned the new position in passing, he was appalled when he thought I was asking him to take it. He made it very clear he wasn’t interested.”

Morgana cocks her head curiously. “Why not?” She asks, not quite suspiciously, but close enough. Arthur feels his cheeks redden slightly.

“He insists that now that I am king, we barely have any time together. If he were to become Court Sorcerer, he fears we’d never see each other until it was time to retire for the night, and by then we’d be too tired to—“

“I get the idea!” Morgana says swiftly, cutting off the rest of his sentence. Arthur shrugs, equal parts apologetic and sheepish.

The King rallies past his momentary embarrassment, and asks, “So, will you take the position?” His sister calmly meets his eyes, but he can see the steadily growing excitement lurking just beneath the surface.

“Yes.” She states, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, and utterly failing. “I’m assuming you want some kind of display of magic?” She asks.

Arthur nods. “Merlin has agreed to do something, but he refuses to tell me what. Knowing him, it’ll be something girly, so if you want to show off a bit, I won’t stop you. As long as it’s safe. The last thing I need is you blowing out half the castle and ending up back at square one with the peoples’ trust of magic.” He replies. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his sister to behave herself, it’s just that he knows that her philosophy on most things was _’go big or go home’_. He didn’t want to frighten his people. He wanted a genuine display of how magic was beautiful. How it was something to cherish, not something to try to destroy.

Morgana grins. “Don’t worry, dear brother, you can trust me.” Her words do little to insight much faith, but there’s little Arthur can do now.

He purses his lips and studies her for a moment, before relenting and saying, “See to it that I can. Remember, Morgana, this is important.”

Morgana grows serious once more. “I know. I won’t mess this up, Arthur. You have my word.” Arthur nods, then after a last _‘thank you’_ , leaves the room. Tomorrow was a big day, and he needed his rest. He also had to corral his husband to bed as well. The man had been up till the early hours of the morning all week leading up to today. Tonight, the king was putting his foot down, and making him sleep at a normal hour. Or, he was going to at least make his husband be in bed at a normal hour. Sleep was, of course, optional.

~~~

The next morning gets off to a slow start, with Arthur having to dislodge the octopus that was wrapped around him, that was, in fact, his husband. He thought that Merlin would’ve been up early, utilizing his nervous energy to get some last minute things done. Instead, he was drooling into the King’s shoulder. By the time he managed to wake Merlin, it was late enough that he promptly flew into a panic, and tore through the room, pulling his set outfit on as he went. Arthur barely got a kiss good morning before Merlin was gone.

Arthur gets up much slower, tamely dressing, and forcing himself to eat at least a few bites of the breakfast that William brings. Neither one comments on Merlin’s absence, or the fact that he had failed to eat anything yet that morning. As his servant bows slightly and leaves, Arthur looks over his speech one last time. Merlin had made some last minute changes the day before that he makes note of. A nervous energy starts to tingle just under his skin as he skims over the words a few more times.

The castle is a flurry of activity as Arthur leaves their chambers, all the staff preparing for the events of the day, culminating in the feast that night. The King had been assured that it would be grand, as befitting the occasion. Complete freedom for all, and one year since his coronation.

Arthur doesn’t see Merlin, or Morgana, again until it’s time to gather for the official address to the citizens of Camelot. He had been hoping for a quick snog in a hidden hallway beforehand, Merlin’s lips having an uncanny ability to calm him down, and had been admittedly disappointed when he never found his husband. However, as he appears by his side, golden circlet contrasting against his dark hair, he feels his buzzing energy settle anyway. Just Merlin’s proximity, his hand curling into his own, is enough to settle him. He gives his family a soft smile before turning to address the eager crowd filling the courtyard.

“Today marks one year since change came to Camelot. One year since the fight for freedom and equality for all began. As you are all aware, magic was feared for many years. You were told to distrust it, cast it aside as evil. Well, I am here before you today, to tell you that there is nothing more to be feared from magic than there is to be feared from sword and shield. Magic, just as all things, can be a force for good, for protection, and I hope that our actions this past year have convinced you all of that fact.

“When my father came to this land, he saw only how magic could corrupt. I have seen the destruction and evil that magic can bring to the world, but I have also been shown the beauty of it. Through our new laws, we hope to foster magic, help it grow in the light, and cast away the darkness that has tried to overcome it. From this day forth, the ban on magic is rescinded. No longer will those who practice magic for good, to help and to heal, have to live in fear. No longer will innocent men and women face execution for crimes they have not committed. Today, we welcome a new age. An age of acceptance. An age of magic coexisting peacefully in our society. For the good of Camelot.”

A loud cheer erupts from the crowd below. A firm squeeze on his hand pulls Arthur’s attention briefly to his husband at his side. There are tears of pure happiness glistening in Merlin’s blue eyes. Someone below starts up a chant of _‘for the good of Camelot’_. Arthur let’s them continue for a minute or so, before lifting his hands to silence the crowd. Once they are quiet again, he continues.

“It is my great honour, to introduce a new position in court. A magical aid and advisor to help further the reintroduction of magic into the kingdom, to help protect against magical threats to the people.” He steps to the side more, and gestures to Morgana beside him, urging her to step forward. “The Lady Morgana, new Court Sorceress of Camelot.”

Morgana inclines her head politely as the people once again cheer. She holds herself regally, proud of her new place in the kingdom. She meets Arthur’s eyes, and for a moment, her face softens, reminding him of the young woman who had come to stay with them following a tragedy. He’s reminded of her support through his teenage years as he struggled with his sexuality, and what it meant for his future. With Morgana on his side, he had flourished. He had no doubts that Camelot would flourish much the same now with her guidance.

Merlin squeezes his hand once before pulling away. Arthur watches him move to the edge of the balcony. It had been agreed that Morgana would display her magic first, followed by Merlin finally being able to show the people exactly who he truly was. A hush falls over the crowd as Morgana chants a few words, a universal gasp soon following as a magnificent dragon, comprised completely of flames, forms in midair and takes flight over the crowd. It opens its fiery jaws and lets loose a rumbling roar before exploding in a shower of sparks that pop and fizzle out in the air. The crowd promptly cheers again. Even Arthur finds himself clapping, suitably impressed.

Merlin shoots him a grin over his shoulder, before tugging him forward by the hand. Arthur blinks in surprise, unaware that he was going to be a part of Merlin’s demonstration. An almost uneasy feeling builds in his stomach as Merlin’s grin grows. He watches in mild trepidation as Merlin lifts his cupped hands to his lips, and whispers a spell.

At first, nothing happens. Then Merlin opens his cupped hands, and a swarm of butterflies come rushing out. Arthur only has a second to marvel at how he _knew_ Merlin would do something girly, another second to decide that maybe the butterflies were pretty, and then he was being swarmed. What must be hundreds of butterflies are flapping their wings near silently as they whirl around him, completely blocking him from view. He hears a distinct laugh, and glowers unseeingly in the direction. That laugh belonged to none other than Sir Gwaine, one of his newest knights. Another one of what he referred to as _‘Merlin’s Strays’_. He was just as well suited to knighthood as Sir Lancelot, just as good a fighter, but he had a penchant for jokes and mead. Merlin had insisted that he give him a chance, and who was Arthur to refuse Merlin anything?

After much too long, in Arthur’s opinion, the butterflies swoop down over the crowd, and flutter away. Arthur is well aware of his red cheeks, but decidedly ignores them. He shoots Merlin a mild glare, and gets an impish grin in return. He was going to have to give Merlin another lesson on how to properly treat the king again later.

The people disperse as things wind down. The excitement following Morgana’s and Merlin’s magical displays lingers, though. Arthur can almost taste it on the air. His arm winds around Merlin’s waist habitually as he steps into his space. Morgana turns and smirks at them.

“When you said you were going to involve Arthur, I have to admit that, that was not quite what I was expecting.” She says, amused.

Arthur glares at her, but there’s no heat to it. “Is that where you ran off to this morning, _Mer_ lin? Off planning my humiliation with my sister?” He complains.

Merlin stifles a giggle. “Who else better to plan with?” He asks. His eyes are twinkling with mirth as he reaches out to Arthur’s hair. “You’ve got a little something...” He lets his sentence trail off as he brings his hand back into Arthur’s field of vision, and a lone blue butterfly is perched on the end of his finger. Now that he’s not being swarmed, he’s able to see that it’s the same colour as Merlin’s eyes. His cheeks warm at the thought.

“You’re insufferable.” He grouches, tightening the arm around his husband to make sure that Merlin knows he’s just joking. Merlin just grins, wiggling his finger and sending the butterfly fluttering away. Arthur finds his eyes drawn to it, until it’s out of sight.

“You’re both insufferable.” Morgana snips, pulling Arthur’s attention back to his companions. He notices that his arm around Merlin’s waist has dipped lower than where he had first placed it. Merlin is biting his lower lip to avoid laughing, but his eyes have darkened from their normal shade, hold a bit more heat than usual.

Arthur shrugs. “I’m the king. I can be as insufferable as I want.” He replies, before dipping his head down and kissing Merlin square on the lips. He barely hears Morgana huff in faux annoyance, her retreating footsteps finally announcing that they’re alone.

Merlin pulls back breathlessly to stare into Arthur’s eyes. “I am so proud of you, Arthur. What you’ve done, what you’ve accomplished. You’ve taken a kingdom groomed to hate, and turned it around. You’ve somehow brought love back to this land. If you ever had any doubts about the druids’ prophecy, they surely must be gone by now.”

Arthur grimaces slightly. “There’s a difference between bringing magic back, and uniting the lands of Albion. Who’s going to listen to me? I’ve practically only just stopped being called a snotty child.” He retorts self-deprecatingly. Merlin snorts as he runs a gentle hand over Arthur’s cheek. His eyes flick between both of the King’s, searching for something. Arthur has no idea what.

“There is a greatness in you, Arthur.” Merlin finally says softly. “You foster hope. Give it time, and I’ll be proven right. You _will_ be the greatest king to ever live, whether you want to believe it or not.”

Arthur’s heart melts just a little more at the depth of Merlin’s faith in him. At how overflowing his love for his husband is. He doesn’t reply, just seals their lips together again. Merlin pushes at his shoulders, forcing him backward until his back hits the stone wall of the castle. He can’t help the moan that slips past his lips as Merlin presses up close to him, hands now on his hips and holding him against the stone.

Merlin pulls back, panting heavily. “I love you, King Arthur.” A whole different kind of butterflies erupt into life in Arthur’s chest.

“I love you, too, Merlin Pendragon.” He whispers, testing out his surname tacked onto Merlin’s given name for the first time. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of calling Merlin that before. His husband is looking at him with wide, surprised eyes. It soon melts into an expression of utter adoration.

“I expect to hear more of that tonight after the feast.” Merlin murmurs heatedly. Arthur groans at the implications of Merlin’s words. Before he has a chance to do anything else, however, Merlin has pushed away from him and is disappearing back into the citadel, a cheeky grin sent back over his shoulder.

~~~

The feast passes without a hitch. For the first time ever, Arthur feels himself enjoying it. With Morgana on one side, and Merlin on the other, plus all his best knights sitting the length of the adjoining tables, he has never felt safer in his life. Conversation flows easily amongst them all, despite Arthur’s status as king. He has a feeling that Merlin has something to do with that. He doesn’t necessarily have an issue with authority, but Merlin certainly has different views on station, and what’s acceptable behaviour. He has no qualms conversing with the serving staff as they fill his wine goblet, involving even the lowest members of society in the festivities. Arthur feels a warm glow settle in his chest.

Merlin laughs loudly at something Gwaine says, and something stirs lower in Arthur’s gut. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Morgana leans closer and whispers in his ear, “If you want to leave, I’m sure no one will mind. You two have been making eyes at each other ever since your speech earlier.”

Arthur blushes profusely, settling for clearing his throat roughly, as he isn’t sure he can speak properly yet. Merlin looks over at him, questioning eyebrow raised. Then the King fails to say anything, he shifts his eyes to Morgana. The two of them, the traitors that they are, have one of their silent, private to them conversations, resulting in Morgana smirking and tilting her head toward the exit as Merlin blushes red too. Gwaine happens to look over as Merlin shifts in his seat, and grins savagely.

“Go on, Merls. Someone has to keep the King happy. No one will miss the sexual tension between the two of you. Maybe we’ll even be able to finally breathe.” He says lewdly, causing Arthur to choke on the sip of wine he’s just taken. Morgana cackles beside him. It’s the only way he can possibly describe the sound escaping her lips gleefully.

Merlin gives him a bashful smile, and Arthur decides to take them up on their offer. He schools his features into a glare as he gets to his feet, taking Merlin’s hand in his and hauling him up too. He sweeps his eyes over the cheeky grins scattered about the table. Ignoring the blatant wolf-whistles behind him, he pulls Merlin from the room and out into the hall. He has to force his feet to continue taking one step after another when all they want to do is spin and pin Merlin against the wall. He has to force his hands to not grip Merlin’s hair and tug his head back, exposing his long throat to Arthur’s lips and teeth. Merlin seems to be having the same issues, if his already heavy breathing is anything to go by.

They barely make it into their chambers, the doors swinging closed behind them, before they pounce on each other. Their teeth knock together in their haste, but neither one seems to notice, or care. Arthur hands are already tugging at the hem of Merlin’s tunic, wanting access to his husband’s hot skin. Merlin pulls back briefly so the garment can be tugged over his head. Before diving back in, he reaches up to undo the clasp holding Arthur’s cloak around his shoulders.

“Your points for not becoming Court Sorcerer are very valid.” Arthur pants against Merlin’s jaw as he presses hot kisses to Merlin’s skin. “I can’t imagine not having time for this.” Merlin chuckles, and for some reason, the sound is like liquid sex to Arthur’s ears. He groans and dives back in for another proper kiss.

They stumble blindly through the room, pausing to pull Arthur’s tunic off, before tumbling down onto the bed in a heap. Arthur finds himself flat on his back, Merlin straddling his thighs. The look in his husband’s eyes is downright predatory, and he groans helplessly, digging his fingertips into Merlin’s hips. He vaguely thinks, in the back of his mind, that his grip might be just hard enough to possibly leave bruises on Merlin’s skin, and the thought makes something in his chest purr.

Merlin licks a hot stripe up his neck, taking his earlobe between his teeth and tugging on it when he reaches his ear. Arthur squirms under his husband’s lithe body, so full of burning desire he thinks he might actually explode.

“My King.” Merlin purrs in Arthur’s ear, and Arthur shivers.

“Merlin Pendragon.” He replies breathlessly. Merlin pulls back, grinning savagely down at him. He doesn’t reply, just gives Arthur enough time to semi-catch his breath before diving in to kiss him, effectively stealing all that breath away again. Arthur happily lets him, feels his body relaxing, handing control over to his beloved warlock. The one person he trusts explicitly with every part of his body and soul. He is suddenly filled with an intense, love-filled warmth, and knows that Merlin did something magical. He lets it’s wash wholly over him, basking in the airy feeling it leaves behind. With Merlin here, he can believe that maybe, _just maybe_ , the prophecy isn’t as wild as he had originally thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the LAST last chapter. I feel like it ties up the story pretty nicely. Y’all can use your imaginations when it comes to an heir to the throne.


End file.
